


The Orange is a Lie

by GreenasCole



Series: Mandarin [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Scott, Alpha Stiles, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Alpha Pack, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, BAMF Sheriff Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, Canon compliant through Season 2, Claudia Stilinski Feels, Explicit Sexual Content, Fae & Fairies, Families of Choice, Family Secrets, Gen, Ghouls, M/M, Magic, Magical Accidents, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mistaken Identity, Pack Dynamics, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Vampires, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:32:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenasCole/pseuds/GreenasCole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>July was a always a rough month for the Stilinski men.  It had been ever since Stiles lost his mother.  This year was going to be different.  After getting a perfect score on his PSATs (which nearly resulted in his evisceration at the hands of a certain wrathful strawberry blond goddess) the University of Chicago, his parents’ alma mater, had invited him to come spend a week being wooed by the alumni association.</p><p>Stiles was looking forward to reveling in the normality of this milestone with his dad and best friend, despite the potential for big love and drama.  This was going to be their first step on their road back to a safe, happy, supernatural-free life.</p><p>Right.</p><p>Or the one where Stiles finds a book, botches an enchantment, and discovers that the skeletons in his mother's family's closet are the animated kind that try to kill you (meanwhile Scott causes a diplomatic incident and Derek struggles with a different kind of closet).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I was dubious about Teen Wolf/Dresden fusion until I read one. This is me jumping on the bandwagon while I try and fix my other fic. I will try and combine the two by simply smashing them together. For once the dearth of exposition in TW will be useful rather than frustrating.
> 
> Comments are appreciated. I welcome harsh criticism as long as its fair since I'm partly getting into fanfiction to learn how to write.
> 
> Chapters will be on the longer side but I hope to post daily.

July was a always a rough month for the Stilinski men.  It had been ever since Stiles lost his mother.  This year was going to be different.  After getting a perfect score on his PSATs (which nearly resulted in his evisceration at the hands of a certain wrathful strawberry blond goddess) the University of Chicago, his parents’ alma mater, had invited him to come spend a week being wooed by the alumni association.

After six months of werewolves, blood, and a near constant state of panic it seemed like the perfect distraction, as well as a much needed opportunity to mend some fences with his father.  He’d even managed to swing Scott a plane ticket so he could come and play moral support/buffer.  Convincing Mrs. McCall to turn her son loose in Second City had been surprisingly easy.  She was so ecstatic over Scott’s post-Allison academic kick that it only took dropping a few choice phrases like “early admission” and “dinner with the scholarship committee” to have her shrieking praises to the Saints in Spanish and shoving a suitcase into the teen wolf’s arms.

In its own way the Sheriff’s silent pride and gratitude spoke even louder.  Stiles’s parents had apparently been fixture in U of C affairs for decades, even after moving to Beacon Hills.  When his mother died his dad hadn’t just lost his wife but a whole community as he lost touch with old friends who were too far away to actually _be_ there for him.  It wasn’t just her pictures that sat gathering dust through the years of grief and growing isolation.  It made Stiles’s heart swell to be able to give him this chance to reconnect with all the “aunts” and “uncles” they used to fly out see every Homecoming.  He also couldn’t deny he missed being regaled with tales of his parents’ college days.  Hard as it was to imagine the straight laced Sheriff Dad getting into trouble he was once half of a duo that remained unrivaled in infamy on campus.

Getting to spend time with his mother’s family was more of a mixed blessing.  They remembered the day of her death with a gathering that started with mournful music and tears (not just from the bagpipes, but come on _bagpipes, seriously?_ ) and generally ended in citations for disturbing the peace as the McCoy clan slowly put away enough whiskey to fill a kiddie pool.  Stiles hadn’t been since he was eleven.  Crazy old Great Uncle Ebenezar had snuck him small amounts of scotch all night until Stiles had somehow been convinced to dance the swords on the dining room table to wild laughter and thunderous applause.  Waking up the next day with a concussion as well as a hangover was one of his least favorite mornings ever.  He was sketchy on the details but somehow his performance resulted in a couple of minor impalements and the destruction of half the living room.  The Sheriff was less than amused.

All in all, this trip was going to be a _lot_ to deal with.  Nonetheless Stiles was looking forward to reveling in the normality of this milestone with his dad and best friend, despite the potential for big love and drama.  This was going to be their first step on their road back to a safe, happy, supernatural-free life.

Right.


	2. It's just a book. No harm ever came from reading a book.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Scott get lost but find a book.
> 
> Stiles decides to stay up all night and become an innovater in the field of enchanting theory.
> 
> At least after this people will probably stop teasing him about the unicorn debacle. They'll be dining out on *this* screw up for years.

“I told you we were going the wrong way,” Scott chided. 

The hotel the alumni association had put them up in was within walking distance of the university.  Since they’d arrived in the early afternoon Stiles had dragged Scott to check out the campus even though they had a tour the next day.  For Stiles it was like a Civil War buff getting to visit Gettysberg.  He felt like he was seeing his parents’ lives from the inside as raced between the real live landmarks from his favorite college stories.  It made him feel closer to his mother than he had in years.

It was also exhausting.  Just looking at the food served on the plane had killed his appetite for hours.  Poor Scott had it even worse with his super sniffer (green was just not his color, especially when it was on his face).  The angry snarl from his stomach reminded them they hadn’t eaten all day.

“C’mon Stiles I’m _starving_ ,” he whined.  “Let’s find the hotel so we can meet up with your dad and go get pizza.”

Scott’s obsession with eating a “genuine Chicago deep-dish” had begun to grate on Stiles a _week_ ago.  It had almost been worth it though, when Scott made the mistake of bringing it up around Derek.  The Alpha had looked about ready to _murder_ Scott while he vehemently extolled the superior virtues of New York style pies.  It was the first time Stile had heard the Sourwolf express interest in anything besides wife-beaters and mayhem and the rush of affection he’d felt was worryingly intense.

“Okay, okay.”  Stiles held up his hands in surrender.  “But since Google maps currently places my phone entering Helsinki we’re gonna have to stop and ask for directions.”

Scott looked genuinely horrified at the prospect.  “ _Ask for directions!?_   Who are we going to ask, huh?  Look at this neighborhood.  Your dad will _kill_ me if you get capped in a driveby!”

“Capped in a drive-by, really Scott?” Stiles scoffed.  “We’re four blocks from campus in broad daylight not walking through Hell’s Kitchen at 3 am.  Geez, what is it with werewolves and asking for directions?”

“Hilarious.”

“Look.  Here’s a bookstore.  Maybe someone in here can help us.”

Bock Ordered Books looked like it had seen better days but currently the Windy City was not living up to its name and Stiles was desperate to get out of the stagnant summer heat.  His visions of central air were tragically interrupted when he collided with a man coming out of the store, legs getting tangled up in the  freaking quarterstaff the guy was inexplicably carrying, sending the both of them into a sprawl on the sidewalk.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry dude!” Stiles yelled as he sprang back up.  “Here let me help you.”

He grabbed the stranger’s badly scarred hand and hauled him to his feet.

“Thanks,” the man mumbled, brushing off the mantle of his leather coat.

He practically had a neon sign flashing “eccentric” over his head.  In Beacon Hills he would probably cause a traffic accident walking down the street, and even for a big city like Chicago he was pushing it.  The guy was wearing a full length black leather coat, jeans, and cowboy boots in the middle of _summer_.  The rune carved staff didn’t help him blend in either and just exaggerated the appearance of his thin height.  Hawkish features scowled down at him and dark eyes glared not-quite-at Stiles’ own from under almost Derek caliber brows.  He paused for a moment giving Scott a speculative look before sweeping off with a majestic whirl of leather. The icing on the cake came when folded himself into a VW bug that looked like it had been assembled from scrap parts by a colorblind mechanic.  That or stolen from an exhibition of post-modern sculpture.

Stiles and Scott watched him putter off, slightly stunned by the strangeness of the encounter.

“What’s up with Gandalf’s country-western cousin?” Scott asked.

“Dude I have no idea.”

A grating buzz from the sidewalk brought the back to reality.  Stiles fished what turned out to be his phone from a pile of dead weeds and urban detritus that had collected in the lee of the steps leading into the store.

“Hey Dad,” he said answering the call.

_“Stiles.  I got the car from Uncle Tommy.  Where are you?”_

“I’m not really sure.”

 _“Stiles…”_ his dad growled.

“No, it’s okay we’re just off campus.  There’s an old bookstore-“

_“Bock’s, right.  Hang on I’m just around the corner.”_

Something else caught Stiles’s eye as he hung up and put his phone in his pocket.

“Hey Scott check this out.”  He picked a weathered old book that had fallen near his phone.  “Looks like it hasn’t been here too long.”

“Smells funny,” Scott said wrinkling his nose.  “Maybe that guy dropped it when you dropped your phone?”

“Yeah I guess.”  Stiles frowned as he ran his hands over the worn cover.  His skin tingled where it touched.  When he opened it he found page after page of handwritten notes, all in latin, and dozens of arcane diagrams and mysterious symbols.  “It looks like a grimoire.”

“Is that like a bestiary?”

“Sorta, but for magic and demons and stuff.”

“Demons!?  Put it back we have enough problems already.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at that.  “It’s just a book, Scott.  I’m not going unleash the armies of hell by reading it.”

“Sure,” Scott said unconvinced.  “Maybe someone in there will take it.”

They turned back to the door only to see that the Open sign now read closed.

“Guess not,” Stiles said.  ‘Besides I want some time to look through this first.”

Scott made a face like he’d bitten a lemon.  “Fine.  But when you get ass dragged into hell I get your Xbox.”

“Deal,” Stiles said with a smile.

His dad pulled up in a sleek black Mercedes as they shook on it.  They scrambled for the door handle eager to get out of there, Scott due to hunger and Stiles due to his impatience to pour over the book.  They managed to get it open in a flurry of hand slapping and playful shoves and dove into the deliciously cool backseat.

“Using a cell phone while driving, Bad Sheriff,” Stiles scolded playfully.

“Just put your seatbelt on, Stiles,” his dad sighed. 

“This car is awesome,” Scott said awed as he ran his hand over the leather interior.

“You should have seen the car he wanted me to take.  A white Jag with silver accents.”

“No way!”

“Uncle Tommy’s totally loaded,” Stiles stage whispered to Scott.

“Can’t believe this place is still here,” the Sheriff said glancing back at the storefront.  “Place attracts kind of weird crowd...”

“You don’t say,” Stiles muttered.  He thought about the grimoire and the weird guy and marked the store in his mind as somewhere to come back to later.

“So, dinner?” his dad asked.

Both boys stomachs growled audibly in anticipation.  “Pizza!” they shouted in unison.

“Sure thing.  I know just the place.” 

He put the car in gear with a chuckle and eased into traffic heading away from campus.  Stiles returned to perusing the grimoire, drawing a disapproving glare from Scott.  Stiles glared right back and Scott gave up with a shrug and started playing Tetris on his phone.

The book was going to be a bitch to decipher with the barely legible scrawl, not to mention being written in a dead language, but Stiles’s brain had already sunk its teeth into this fascinating new puzzle and was not likely to let go of it anytime soon.  He was going to get the grimoire to yield its secrets to him it was just a matter of time.  Scott was overreacting anyway; it was perfectly safe.

Stiles mentally kicked himself for thinking the jinx but didn’t stop reading.

 

***

 

The restaurant was a small mom and pop joint near Hyde Park.  When they arrived a tiny old woman wrapped in layers of colorful shawls greeted his father like a long-lost son, yanking his face down to hers with surprising strength and kissing both of his cheeks.  Her joyful exclamations were lost on Stiles since she only appeared to speak Italian but the Sheriff just laughed and answered her greeting in the same language.

“I didn’t know your dad speaks Italian,” Scott whispered.

Stiles just shrugged at him and smiled proudly at his dad’s display of linguistic awesomeness.

“Come on boys,” he father said beckoning them over as he followed the woman to a table.

 

 

An hour and a half later all three of them were leaning back in their chairs giving their distended bellies some extra room.  The pizza had been _huge,_ a two inch deep square almost the size of table and swimming with a soup of sauce, cheese, and toppings.

Stiles chuckled as he looked at Scott who was so thoroughly splattered in sauce it looked like he was just finishing up a grisly murder rather than a dinner.

“Dude you look like you killed and ate Bambi raw,” Stiles drawled as he ran a hand over his own stomach in soothing circles.

“Ha ha.”  Scott tried to glare but his eyes were out of focus as he basked in the afterglow.

“It’s about time to go; you two have an early morning tomorrow,” his dad said as stood up, using the table to help heave himself to his feet.

“Don’t we have to wait for the check?” Scott asked.

“Nope.  I gave up trying to convince Theresa to let me pay years ago.”

“That’s awesome!  How did you score free pizza for life?”

The Sheriff’s expression became faraway, fondness mixing with a touch of grief.  “This was Stiles’s mother and I’s favorite place while we were in college.  Theresa sort of adopted us.”

“Why’d she do that?” Scott asked, blithely careening into delicate territory.

Stiles just smiled though; this was a favorite story of his.  He must have heard his mother tell it a hundred times.

“Claudia and I had our first date here.  It wasn’t what you’d call love at first sight.”

Stiles and Scott stood and followed the Sheriff to the door.

“What happened?” Scott asked bewildered.  The Sheriff and his wife had been widely known in Beacon Hills for the enduring romantic gooeyness of their marriage.

The Sheriff and Stiles both smiled hugely.  “Claudia didn’t appreciate my take international cuisine.  Said I had a smart mouth.”

“I totally get it from him,” Stiles cut in sotto voce.  “And that’s the only the family friendly version of what she said.”

“I may have accidentally said something tactless about traditional Scottish cooking.  We ended up shouting insults at each other until she slammed my face into the pizza and stormed out.”

“You’re joking!”

“Hand of God.  After that I was totally smitten.  Theresa saw the whole thing and took it upon herself to help me win Claudia over.”

“And four years later you wound up proposing right here,” Stiles finished.

 “That’s a nice story,” Scott said as Theresa descended upon them.  This time all three of them were thoroughly hugged and kissed before being shooed out the door.

“Let’s go back to the hotel; I’m about dead on my feet.”

Scott yawned and stretched delightedly at the prospect of crawling into bed “Yeah…sleep sounds…good.”

Stiles just nodded along instead of speaking.  Between werewolf senses and sheriff-y powers of observation he didn’t want to risk getting caught in a lie.  Sleep was all well and good, but after discovering that the grimoire was actually a manual with detailed instructions for enchanting magical objects…he was thinking more along the lines of a double dose of Adderall and a pot of coffee.  Sleep could wait.  If he was returning the book tomorrow he didn’t have a second to waste

.

This was going to be _awesome_.

 

***

 

 

Stiles woke to an irate Scott banging on the bathroom door.  The werewolf had always been a beast first thing in the morning.  Since getting the Bite he had gotten even worse, only now he had actual fangs with which to bite your head off.

“Stiles!  Open the god damn door.  You’ve been in there forever and I have to pee.”

Stiles flailed for a moment when he realized where he was, slung halfway in the bathtub with a piece of hotel stationary stuck to his face.  Scattered pages from the memo pads he’d found by the phone covered every surface with lines from incantations, symbols, equations, and notes.  He swept the whole mess into his arms and stumbled out the door directly into Scott.

“Ow!” he cried going down in puff of fluttering paper.  Zombiewolf wasn’t yet awake enough to notice anything out of the ordinary and went into the bathroom without comment.

Stiles gathered his notes and plopped down onto the bed while he tried to organize them.  His first project of the summer had been burning his way through Wheelock’s Latin at Lydia’s insistence. Since their “online gaming community” hadn’t seen fit to include her she retaliated by absconding with the bestiary and refused to return it until one of them could help her translate it.  After that she had simply refused to speak to any of them in any language other than Latin.

It only took one episode of getting kidnapped by an affectionate but completely insane unseelie unicorn for Stiles to get with the program.  Anything to avoid another bout the pack’s merciless teasing.  Even _Derek_ had doubled over in laughter at the sight of him tied to a tree while the fairie beast nuzzled him within an inch of his life.

While he was at it he set about familiarizing himself with most of the major mystical tradtitions.  At this point his phone was basically a mobile library on the supernatural.  After devouring this latest discovery he realized he’d found something that could possibly tie it all together.  If he could work this he might be able to really make a difference when it came to protecting his friends and family.  If it could also ease the nagging feelings of weakness and inadequacy, which totally didn’t have of course, that would just be a bonus.  He just had to get some supplies first if he wanted to test that theory.

Bock’s would probably have what he needed, so he could kill two birds with one stone when he returned the book, and provide a reasonable non-supernatural explanation if his dad asked why he was visiting an _occult_ bookstore.

 

Fortunately no subterfuge for necessary as Sheriff Stilinski had apparently decided to use his first full day of vacation to enter hibernation.  After mumbling something from the adjoining room about having a nice day at school he turned the AC on full blast and disappeared into a pile of blankets.  Stiles closed the door with a shrug and put on a pot of coffee to appease the Scott-beast.

Convincing him to go along with this would be tough but today was his only real chance.  They had two meetings early and then nothing until meeting Uncle Tommy after dinner for whatever crazy adventure he’d cooked up for them this time.

He had feeling it was going be an extra wild night.

 

***

 

 

Stiles and Scott made the trek to campus after more or less obliterating the continental breakfast while the hotel staff looked on awe and horror.  The first item on the agenda was the new student orientation.

“We’re still in high school; why are taking this tour?” Scott asked.

“The lady from the AA said it was because there was already a tour happening I might as well join them.  But I think it’s really an oh so subtle attempt to get me to imagine myself going to school here.”

“You know you’ve never actually said if you want to go here.”

Stiles didn’t miss the heaviness lurking behind Scott’s casual tone.  He thought carefully about how to answer.  “Six months ago I would have said yes in a heartbeat but now…”

“Everything’s all messed up,” Scott said dejectedly.

“It’s not your fault,” Stiles said gripping his friend’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said sounding unconvinced.

Fortunately they were spared a millionth rehashing of _that_ conversation by the arrival of their guide.

She was…something.  The girl was a vision from an eighties slasher movie; blond, busty, and barely clad in hot pants and a painted on tri-delt t-shirt.  Stiles would be seriously afraid for his life if he found himself trapped in a sorority house with her on a dark and stormy night.  Her ruthless perkiness and ultra-white pageant smile were somehow more intimidating than the claws and fangs of most of the slavering monsters that Stiles had met. He did a quick check for lurkers wearing hockey masks anyway, just in case.

Stiles wasn’t the only one feeling uncomfortable; he saw Scott wilt under the intensity of regard as she gave him a lingering glance, eyes roving appreciatively.

“I think you’ve got a fan.”

“How ‘bout no.  She’s kind of giving me the creeps.  Besides-“

“She’s not Allison, I get it.”

He totally didn’t.  While he intellectually understood the driving force behind the Scott/Allison lovey-dovey festival of pain, he’d never experienced anything remotely comparable.  At this point he was pretty much resigned to the fact he more likely to become a virgin sacrifice than actually get laid before graduating high school.  The quiet death of his decade long crush on Lydia and his increasingly awkward blood flow issue around a certain undeniably gorgeous Sourwolf had only added a whole new element of confusion to the situation.  Then again, his Dad had plans to meet up with some of his old fraternity brothers Thursday night.  It shouldn’t be too hard to sneak out of the hotel and find a college party.

Putting the bleakness of his non-existent sex life on the back burner for now he trailed after their guide tuning out her bubbly enthusiasm as she led them around.  He had plans to make after all.

 

 

***

 

 

“I told you she didn’t smell like a werewolf she smelled like a wolf-wolf.”

“How would you know Scott?  Have you ever even seen a _wolf-wolf_.  Was it here a, there a, everywhere a-“

_“Stiles.”_

He had been trying unsuccessfully to dispel Scott’s suspicions about the alumna who’d met with them all the way to bookstore.  Tall, willowy Georgia had a penetrating wit, an easy smile, and a voice full of soft humor while she gave them an insider’s perspective on college life over a giant plate of curly fries in the Student Union Food Court.  She seemed to genuinely enjoy listening to his ecited rambles about possible majors and Stiles had liked her immediately. Scott on the other hand was borderline hostile throughout the entire meeting.

“Just trust me on this, Stiles. There’s something seriously off about her.”

“Fine,” he yelled throwing his hands up in defeat and banging his elbow into a huge brass Buddha.  He shot a panicked look his shoulder at the man behind the counter he assumed was the eponymous proprietor of Bock Ordered Books.  The old man had acted enormously put out about the whole thing but had accepted the old grimoire mumbling something about “wardens” being bad for business.  He was currently glaring daggers at them as they dug through the dusty shelves of herbs and other… _ingredients,_ trying to find the components Stiles needed.

“Help me find something from a bat,” he whispered nervously to Scott.

“Anything to get us out of here faster.  The _smells_ coming from some of these jars…”

“Here we are” Stiles crowed, “wool of bat!”

“Bat fur?” Scott whined, “how can you possibly think any hocus pocus involving freaking bat fur is gonna end well?  It’s straight out of Macbeth!”

Stiles felt a little guilty for being shocked that Scott’s studying was actually paying off.  “I need it for the echolaction element of the enchantment.”

“So what, you want to be Daredevil?”

Stiles sighed.  “I’m combining elements from Kabbalah and symbological correspondences from the Tree of Life with the basic ritual structure from the grimoire to create a supersensory enchantment.  I figure if use actual DNA samples and the mnemonic cryptographs I designed last night I can increase the potency and permanence of the Yesodic enchantment by an order of magnitude by tapping the Gestalt and channeling the archetypal experience of the Hunt into the spell.”

“Did you make some of those words up?”  Scott looked a bit stunned, stuck somewhere between awe and horror.

“ _In other words_ I need bits from different predators that hunt by moonlight so I can harness their superior senses.”

“So no giant bat demons?”

“No giant bat demons.  If it works I’ll be able to protect myself better, forewarned being for armed and all.”

“Dude that’s actually…really cool.  Plus if you blow it and give yourself giant bat ears I’ll have free I told you so’s for life.”

“It’ll work.”  Stiles wasn’t sure where his certainty came from considering he was literally making things up as he went but he felt like he was walking down a familiar road as prepared for what he hoped would be a life changing event.

 

 

***

 

 

In the end it cost just about all of his savings but he got everything he needed.  The problem was where to actually _do_ the spell.  The moon was waxing towards full and already riding low in the afternoon sky as thunderheads began sweeping in from the west.

When they got back to the hotel the Sheriff was finally up and deeply engrossed in a paperback he’d picked up in the airport.

“Dad we’re going for a swim before dinner, ‘kay?”

“Uh huh,” he replied without looking up.  Stiles felt somewhat miffed that his dad didn’t even see the effort he’d put into this deception.   He and Scott were in their boardshorts and everything.

 

“Well that was easy,” Stiles said once they were out in the hall.

“Maybe too easy.”  Scott’s eyes flashed as the lights flickered for a second while thunder rumbled outside.

“I thought we agreed to a moratorium on horror movie clichés.”

“You’re the one who wants to sneak off to do some chanting in Latin in dark corner of the hotel during a thunderstorm.”

“It’s a _nice_ hotel and I’ll be doing it in Gaelic.”

“Right cuz that’s any better.”

Bypassing the pool they went into the wing of conference rooms instead.  Stiles had checked the schedule and found one that was small, unoccupied, and out of the way.  While the ritual itself wouldn’t take all that long it was going to be a bit _messy_ and it would be awfully hard to explain if they were interrupted by hotel security.

“Okay, Scotty boy.  You pour the salt in a circle clockwise while I set up the altar on the table here.”

Scott sighed in resignation but took the cylinder of salt, pouring an inch thick line in circle ten feet across.  Meanwhile Stiles laid out the animal samples on the table and arranged the papers with the necessary symbols around them.

“Did Deaton ever text you back about that passage you had trouble translating?”

“No, but I was able to find the right reference book at Bock’s so we’re good to go.  All that’s left is your donation.”

Getting Scott to agree to this part had by far been the hardest but it was the novel idea of using werewolf blood as both a symbolic bridge and binding element that made Stiles think this would work.  He’d had to invoke the Gerard Basement Beatdown to convince him.  Sometimes he missed the days when his afternoons didn’t involve manipulating his best friend with guilt so he could perform dubious mystic rites.  But hey, it’s not like he was sleeping at night anyway.

“Last chance to back out,” Stiles said holding out the empty jar.

“No, I’ve got your back bro.”

Scott extended a claw and drew a cut across his palm, letting the blood drip down into the jar.  He had to repeat the process several times before Stiles had enough.  Both of them were slightly surprised Stiles made it through without fainting.

“Okay, step outside the circle and I’ll get this show on the road.”

Scott didn’t step out so much as fling himself into the farthest corner of the room.  Dipping a finger in the blood and resolutely tamping down his nausea, he let a single drop fall on the salt circle while imagining a wall forming like he had with the mountain ash.  He imagined for a second he could feel a crackle of energy snap across the back of neck as the circle formed in his mind.  With the rest of the blood he traced a circle around samples to represent the full moon and placed a tiny drop on each one.

“Bat, owl, viper, fox, shark, spider, cat, man and wolf combined,” he said under breath as he touched each one.”

Lastly he set the ring he’d bought to hold the spell in the very center.  It was a simply silver band adorned with a small piece of tumbled amethyst, understated enough that he could wear it in public without drawing attention.  He doubted he’d escape Lydia’s scathing assessment though.

He’d chosen Gaelic to perform the spell in because the grimoire had insisted that a foreign language was necessary to provide insulation from the forces being employed, whatever that meant.  Besides, his mother had taught him.

As the harsh, liquid syllables rolled off his tongue he focused on what he wanted.  After six months of running from and occasionally toward supernatural predators in the dark forests of the Preserve he had plenty of material to work with.  He imagined the hunt, chasing down prey while his senses sang with the thrill of it.  He built up the image until he could smell the dark richness of the soil, hear the desperate thumping his quarry’s heart, see every needle as he flowed between the trees.  Moonlight flowed down into silvery sigils that filled the landscape with a pulsing amethyst radiance.  As the incantation reached a dramatic crescendo he felt like he was grasping a thousand tiny live wires with his mind, weaving them into vivid tapestry of primal violence and desire from threads of memory and magic that transcended mundane concepts like time and space.

As he cried out the final word of the ritual he pricked his finger with a straight pin and let a single glistening drop of his own blood fall on the stone set in the ring.  For a split second he could have sworn it _glowed_ with coruscating luminescence before every light bulb in the room exploded in a shower of sparks as an almighty crack of thunder shook the room so hard he nearly lost his balance.

“Wha Ha!  That was awesome!” he cried doing a victory dance while a wolfed-out Scott growled at him.  His exultation was short lived however as wave of exhaustion hit.  “Uh, Scott?”

“Yes, Stiles?”

“I think I need to…”

Whatever he was about to say was lost when his knees buckled sending him to floor.  On the way, his head connected with edge of the table in a burst of phantom light, scattering his ritual articles all over the floor.

“Stiles!” Scott cried from somewhere that sounded far, far away.

The floor really was very comfortable; Stiles figured he could use a nap anyway.  Right before he passed out he heard a faint tinkling sound and felt a small circle of warmth settle onto his finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is Derek's POV, alternating after that.
> 
> Next time....  
> Deaton alerts Derek to a possible situation in the Windy City. He meets "Uncle" Tommy and a there's a bit of a...misunderstanding.


	3. Children of the night-what a mess they make.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deaton informs Derek of the devolving situation in Chicago, sending him rushing off after Scott and Stiles.
> 
> Things rapidly devolve when he finds a vampire lurking around Stiles in the hospital.
> 
> Derek gets a fabulous new coat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence ahead.
> 
> Please don't hate me fellow Dresden lovers but Derek is the (anti)hero here after all. Don't worry nobody dies. Promise.
> 
> Also this chapter begins the chain reaction of crazy that comes from Derek habitually withholding information and Scott running off half-cocked.

Sometimes Derek wondered if he was psychic.  Case in point: when he got the call from Dr. Deaton he knew even before answering that Stiles had followed one of his bizarre tangential “hunches” into some kind of supernatural quagmire. Naturally it would fall to him to get Stiles out of it while Scott stood off to one side loudly questioning _Derek’s_ decision making abilities, his own best friend forgotten and in mortal peril.

“So help me God, Stiles, if you’ve been kidnapped by another unicorn…” He never had been able to figure out how Stiles had first gotten _abducted_ and then _tied to a tree_ by a fairie without any freaking _hands_.  He’d been glad that Stiles wasn’t a werewolf.  If he had been Derek would never have been able to pass off his hysterical laughter when he’d finally found him as mocking instead of relieved.

He glowered at his phone, willing Deaton to realize he’d dialed the wrong number while ordering puppy chow or whatever.  His growl turned into a defeated sigh.  At this point in his life he knew better than to hope.

“What?” he snapped.

“Ah, Derek, there you are.”  He wondered who else the vet thought would be answering his phone but settled on a grunt of acknowledgement instead of volley of snark.  He really had been spending way too much time around Stiles.  “I just received an interesting call from an old friend in Chicago.  It seems our young Mr. Silinski came into his shop this afternoon and purchased a number of ritual components.”

“Components.  For.  What.”  Derek wasn’t really terse he was just compensating for all the people in his life who liked to ramble on enigmatically.  The universe demands balance after all.

“He couldn’t say for sure, but he did say Stiles had gotten his hands on a very dangerous book about artifact enchantment.”

“And this concerns me because..?”

“You mean side from the _obvious_?” he asked in a knowing tone that bordered on _leering_. 

Oh fuck his life; first Peter and now Deaton.

“It’s just _Stiles_.  Even if he got his hands on some major league grimoire he’s no wizard; it’s not like he’s capable of Lady Learying the city of Chicago singlehanded.”  On the other hand _Peter_ might have different opinion on Stiles’s abilities with fire, but Derek wasn’t worried, not a bit.

“Interesting you bring that story up.  Apparently a short while ago the hotel where Scott and the Stilinkis are staying was struck by a bolt of lightning.  It seems a number of people were injured in the resulting blackout and neither Scott nor Stiles are answering their phones.”

“God damn it Stiles!”  One of these days Derek was just going to tie him to the bed to keep him out of trouble.   Tie Stiles to his own bed that is.  Fully clothed and under parental supervision.  Derek was not going to get distracted by imaging Stiles tied…anywhere else.

“Indeed.”  The advisor’s tone dripped victory.

“I’m taking the next flight out.”  Derek began packing one handed with werewolf speed, sending clothes flying haphazardly around the loft.

“Before you go you need to be aware of a few things.”

The defeated sigh got an encore.  Of course there were.  “What.  Things.”

“You’re likely to run into some of the late Mrs. Stilinski’s relatives while you’re there.  You need to be cautious.  The Sheriff may be unaware of supernatural affairs but Stiles’s mother was another story altogether.”

That got his attention.  “So Stiles is…something after all?”

“He’s never been an _ordinary_ human by any stretch of the imagination.  Whatever his ultimate potential what matters is that he is kin to some extremely dangerous people and some equally dangerous not-quite people.”

“Anything else?”  He rubbed a hand over his face tiredly and wondered if maybe Stiles had _literally_ bewitched him.  At a certain point this was going to cross the line from a passive, if ill-advised, crush on the _Sheriff’s_ underage _son_ to an active exercise in self-destruction.

“Yes.  Word travels fast in the supernatural community, especially in big cities like Chicago.  With the war between the White Council and the Vampire Courts going on an unaffiliated teenage kid blowing up a hotel with magic is going to attract a lot of attention.”

“Perfect.  And how am I supposed to stay close enough to protect Stiles from all this “attention” while not getting _shot_ by his father?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”  Condescension oozed out of the phone; Derek could easily picture the vet’s oh so patient expression.  He’d certainly seen it often enough lately.

Derek hung up on him.  He grabbed a few last things from the bathroom before zipping the bag shut with so much force it tore a little along one seam.  “Peter!  I know you heard all of that.  I’ll be back in a few days.

His uncle’s creepy disembodied chuckles echoed through the cavernous space.  “Of course, nephew mine.  Please do retrieve Stiles before something eats him.  I’d rather take another sojourn six feet under than endure the years of angst I’d be subjected to if you lost another one of your nubile teenage crushes.”

Bringing up Paige was over the fucking line.  “I can skip right to the six feet under part.  Again.”  He decided to forgo the spiral staircase and simply leapt down with a snarl, bag in hand.

Peter materialized from the shadowy recesses of the rafters and dropped to the floor on silent feet.  “My apologies.  I’ll be sure to look after your puppy while you’re gone.  After all, Isaac is the only one you have left.”

Derek knew Peter was trying to bait him.  Normally he’d send him crashing through the nearest available wall, but he was in too big a hurry and Peter knew it, the bastard.  Instead he muttered “Just try not to eat him” and headed out the door, pursued by the chilling sound of his uncle’s mocking laughter.

 

 

***

 

 

Derek hated hospitals.  As a born werewolf from a family of werewolves he’d never spent much time in them.  The whole concept of a hospital was foreign to him.  Huge complexes where humans came to struggle against kinds illness and injury that never left any lasting mark on him.  Watching the vulnerable, fragile beings shuffling through the halls reeking of disease and pain made him feel unspeakably uncomfortable.  It was too real, too intimate, especially through the agonizing clarity of his heightened senses.  It was also a powerful reminder that he was something…other.  After he lost his family, his whole world, he’d been alone and apart, save for Laura.  Now she was gone too.  Walking through the sliding glass doors of the ER made him feel like an intruder.  When death came for an Alpha it was usually borne on the claws and teeth of another wolf.  He would never experience this lingering struggle to survive that all humans held in common.  Getting up in morning was hard enough when you were basically invulnerable to everyday dangers.  Seeing this quiet battle up close and concentrated like this made him wonder which species was truly the stronger.

 

It should have been hard to track Stiles’s scent through the haze of blood and disinfectants but the familiarity he’d gained with it lately made it easy.  At least that’s what he hoped the reason was.  Truthfully he’d probably be able pick out Stiles’s scent even if the kid had been buried alive in kitty litter.  It was one of those things better left unexamined. Because of reasons. 

Tonight the scent that was usually so captivating made his hackles rise, instead of…other things.  Mixed in with the usual orange-cinnamon-cedar smell was the same blood/pain odor that saturated the halls here.  But what sent his wolf into a frenzy was the pungent stench of abject terror wrapped in the iron-and-ozone scent of magic.  If that weren’t enough there was also the cold, predatory, and unmistakable scent of a White Court vampire.

He followed the trail into a hall just off the ICU.  Stiles’s normally rapid heartbeat was dangerously elevated; it was almost a hum.  One of the other ‘beats in the room bore the steady rhythm of sleep but the other held sharp, even cadence of an agitated werewolf.

Derek sat in the waiting area nearby and waited for Scott.  After a few minutes he gave up hope that Scott was actually paying enough attention to notice that something as dangerous as an Alpha was within mere yards of his helpless friend.

“Scott get your ass out here.”  He spoke at a conversational volume that a regular human couldn’t pick out over the quiet roar of a busy hospital, but it was plenty loud enough for Scott.

 _“Derek!?”_ came the shocked whisper.

As expected Scott stormed up to him practically shaking with rage because, somehow, all of this was _his_ fault in Scott’s mind.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I heard about Stiles all the way back in Beacon Hills.  You two idiots have no idea the mess you’ve stepped this time.  I took the first flight out because without me you lucky to live out the night.”

“Yeah right,” Scott scoffed, “the last thing we need is _your_ help.”

Derek was done with this idiot.  “Have it your way.  I’d be surprised if we go a whole day before your eating your words.”  He took a calming breath and slowly released the desire to carve the word “dumbass” into Scott’s forehead.  He’d even do it backwards so the moron could read it in the mirror, because Derek was thoughtful like that.  “What exactly is wrong with Stiles?”

Scott’s face became sick with fear.  “They don’t know.  After he did the spell he collapsed and hit his head.  When he first came to I thought it was just a bump.  We cleaned up the mess and hauled ass.  After a few minutes though he started freaking out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean shaking and jumping at every little noise, going on about all the horrible things he could hear and smell.  At first I thought it was a concussion or something but he just got more and more scared.”

“What kind of crazy ass spell did you two chuckleheads cast?”  Stiles would have given him _so_ much crap for the Supernatural reference.  _“Holy pop-culture reference Batman!  Sourwolf’s turning into a real boy!”_

“He was trying to make a magic ring to give him super senses or something.”

Derek started counting to ten in his head.  “Did you try Taking.  It.  Off?”

“He passed out before he even put it on!” Scott whisper-yelled at him.

“Maybe you should check, _just to be sure_.”

Scott gave him a death glare but stalked back to the room.  After a second Derek heard his shocked gasp.  He reemerged walking slowly as he stared flabbergasted at the ring sitting on his palm.  “I don’t understand.  I would have seen if he put it on.  Maybe…”

Before Derek could stop him he slid the damn thing on his finger.  Nothing happened.  He could smell the charge contained in the seemingly ordinary band of metal but it didn’t seem to be reacting to Scott at all.

“Huh.  Maybe it only works for Stiles.”

Derek slapped him upside the head and snatched the offending piece of jewelry out his hand, tossing it into a nearby biohazard bin.  “There, problem solved.”

“Dude!  Stiles is gonna be _pissed_.”

“At least he’ll be alive and pissed instead dying from fright because he accidentally cursed himself.”

Scott seemed to consider that for a moment.  If only Derek knew how to reinforce that behavior.  Snausages maybe?   Too many dog jokes; too much Stiles time.

 “I guess you’re right.”  Scott looked like might have pulled a muscle squeezing that out.

Derek huffed out a relived breath.  Scott McCall: calmed.  He was past the first hurdle.  Now onto the big problem: the Sheriff.

“Deaton sent me for a reason.  There are people who keep track of this kind of thing and they’ll be coming.  Even if they don’t want to hurt him they’ll definitely pry into his life.”

“People?  Like who?”  Scott looked utterly nonplussed at the idea that blasting a hotel with lightning might invite scrutiny.  Derek was going need to take up yoga or meditation or something if he was going to keep interacting with this kid on a regular basis without bloodshed.

“Well, for instance I can smell that a fucking _vampire_ has been _in the room with him_ within the last couple of hours.”

“What!?  Vampires are real!?”

“Jesus, Scott!  Did you even _read_ the bestiary?  How about Stiles’s notes?  The translated copy he gave me was fully indexed and summarized for crying out loud.”

“I’ve been busy with school stuff.”  Scott’s mumbled defense was half-hearted at best.

“Your screwed up priorities are going to get people killed.    _Again_.  Take the hint.”

Scott’s abashed look deepened into actual shame, his scent thick with the choking odor of guilt.  Derek would never admit it but the devastated puppy dog eyes the beta was sporting gave him an almost overwhelming urge to comfort him, possibly with some aggressive cuddling.  There were some serious downsides to being Alpha.

“You’re still new, I get it,” Derek said taking mercy on him.  “I can smell a vampire of the White Court.  They devour life energy instead of blood.  Most are succubae or incubi but some use fear to take down their prey instead of lust.  The terror-scent Stiles was putting out probably attracted it.”

“So do we need garlic or stakes or something?  Would Mountain Ash keep it out?”

“No.  Tokens of love can burn them but otherwise you have to take them down just like you would a werewolf.  It can take a while but eventually massive blood loss or dismemberment will do it.”

“Let’s go then.”  Scott drew himself up and put on what Derek supposed was meant to be an ass-kicking face.  It was adorable.

“Think Scott.  Someone needs to guard Stiles and the Sheriff is asleep.  Besides, these things can do some serious mind manipulation.  It doesn’t work well on us but you haven’t had the kind of training you need to resist it completely.”

“I don’t like staying behind while others fight…”  Scott was beginning to get that stubborn look again.

“It’ll be fine.  These things tend to run from straight up fight with a strong opponent.”

“Fine.  The Sheriff wanted me to watch out for Stiles’s uncle anyway.  All our phones died when Stiles…you know.  I guess the guy freaked a bit when we didn’t show earlier.”

“Just make sure anyone who tries to come in is who they say they are first.”  He cocked an ear and listened to Stiles’s heartbeat which was now more or less back to normal.  “Stiles will probably be out until morning.  I’ll take care of the vamp and keep a perimeter until dawn.  The Sheriff _cannot_ know I’m here.”

“That’s probably best.  Wouldn’t want him getting the wrong idea, huh?”  “Dopey grin” replaced “stubborn ass” at the top of Derek’s list of his Least Favorite Expressions of Scott McCall.  Great, if _Scott_ had picked up on his thing for Stiles then the Sheriff probably had snipers casing his loft.  Fortunately Derek had vampire on which to work out his frustrations...

 

 

***

 

 

 

Derek tracked the vampire out of the hospital and into a dark corridor between two of the older buildings in hospital complex.  At the far end a beautiful white Jaguar gleamed in the shadows.  It was the perfect spot to set up an ambush.

He shifted as he dove forward, not even needing to see his opponent drop down from his perch.  The vamp obviously knew a thing or two about stalking prey but had seriously miscalculated, putting an angry Alpha werewolf between himself and his getaway vehicle.

Derek spun, claws sweeping out but the vampire was _fast_.  Strong too, he discovered when a kick threw him clear into the wall even though he managed to take it on the shoulder instead of his head.

“Poor puppy, did you lose your owner?”  The voice was musical and heavily laced with compulsion. It ran off Derek like water off a duck.

“Back off vampire, the boy is mine.”  That might be overstating things but he figured this was not the time for vague disclaimers.

The man’s chalky skin got even whiter as grey eyes brightened to glowing silver.  He was possibly the most outrageously attractive man Derek had ever seen.  The incubus was six feet of toned muscle and smooth, pale skin topped wine a mane of glossy black curls.  The cold seductive power of his demonic nature wrapped around him like an aura of hunger and desire.  It wasn’t hard to imagine men and women alike discarding whatever usual preferences they had and _begging_ to be taken.

But Derek wasn’t human; he didn’t see a walking sexual temptation.  All he saw was competing predator, an opponent and challenger trying to usurp what was _his_.

“I beg to differ.” The vampire said.  Silver eyes became empty orbs of white rage as he abandoned pretense and leapt forward with a snarl.

Derek quickly realized he in trouble.  The vamp might not be able to go a full ten rounds with him but he wouldn’t need to if this kept up.  His speed and strength were _incredible._   Derek was depressingly reminded of Peter thrashing him in a different hospital.  In the future he was going to have to try harder to avoid the damn things.

In the meantime however he changed tactics.  Instead of trying to _trade_ blows with his foe he accepted them, meeting them on his claws and deflecting but not stopping them.  He was being forced backwards towards the car but the vampire paid for each step in splashes of pale blood.  Soon the slashes he was leaving on arms and legs began to heal much slower and the handsome angular features became gaunt and drawn as his enemy ran out of energy as he tried to maintain his assault whilst constantly healing the damage.

Derek waited for his moment.  A strike went wide and he caught the arm, using the vampire’s momentum to swing him around into the wall with bone shattering force before driving claws deep into the his chest.  Seeing his opponent was out fight Derek withdrew his claws and stepped back, allowing the vamp to sink down to the pavement with a wet gurgle.

“Like I said,” he panted, “the boy is-“

“Hey Fido!”

Derek turned to face the newcomer and barely got his arms up in time to shield his face as a wrecking ball of fire and force threw him down the remainder of the alley and into the Jag.  Actually, Derek realized with a pang of sorrow for the beautiful machine, it was more like halfway _through_ the Jag.

“Get the hell away from my brother.”

A wizard, perfect.  A black one too if he was working hand in hand with vampires behind the council’s back.  He didn’t know if they were really brothers or if it was a fabricated delusion used to manipulate the wizard.  Either way, it didn’t change the fact he had maybe sixty seconds before he was reduced to a greasy smudge on the ground, and was currently cut off from the direction he needed to go.  This was going to hurt.

Wrenching a door off the totaled car to use as a shield he charged this new threat.  With a shout of something that sounded like Latin the wizard sent a bolt of fucking _lightning_ at him. It sizzled over the metal of the door but the paneling on the inner surface provided enough insulation that it didn’t trouble him too much.  Immediately he flung the door toward the caster as hard as he could.  Like he anticipated the wizard raised a shield to deflect it and was barely rocked back by the impact.

In a flash Derek was at the silver half-dome of force the wizard had raised with his power.  If it had been a barrier of Mountain Ash or something similar he would have been screwed.  Such banes were anathema in their very essence and would have placed him at too big a disadvantage when it came to matching wills with a practitioner of this level.  But what he faced here was mortal magic held together by a mortal will.  And mortal will was a match for the rage of an Alpha werewolf protecting his pack.  That fact that he was no longer bothering to tell himself Stiles was otherwise was something to be dealt with after.

All truly supernatural creatures had some degree of resistance to magic. It had long been Hale family custom to learn basic countermagic as a natural complement to mastering the shift.  After the fiasco on the Worm Moon and Peter’s resurrection, Derek had felt motivated to spend some time revisiting the discipline.  His understanding was no longer _basic_.

He raised his arm, but instead of trying to bash his way through he dug into it with his claws.  It felt like digging through concrete and hurt like a mother, but the barrier slowly yielded to him.

Unfortunately the wizard was clever as well as powerful.  Unable to simply drop the shield without getting a face full of claw he let his weight fall back and spun as he sank down into a backward lunge.  For all that he was skinny he was at least six and half feet tall and probably weighed more than Derek.  Robbed of leverage the Alpha was jerked sideways off his feet, shoulder dislocating with a sickening pop before he landed on the ground.

Then the wizard did something then that Derek _really_ did not expect: pulling out a huge .44 revolver, aiming at his chest and pulling the trigger twice.  Clearly the guy was not exactly _subtle_ but definitely quick to anger.

And apparently also to snark.  “I’ve never even heard of your kind of werewolf.  These days I’m disinclined to take chances with monsters in dark alleys, especially ones that stalk kids.  Since you don’t seem to have a pack I think it’s probably time for a JRR Martin reference or a dog joke, maybe something about-“

About what Derek never heard.  While the wizard was busy gloating he had inched his hand forward until he was able to grab the bottom edge of the leather duster that even Derek thought was a bit much, especially in _July_.  He gave it a sound jerk, pulling the man off balance.  A shot rang out but went wide, the split second opening enough to surge up and grab the stupid coat by the lapels and swing the homicidal sorcerer into the wall.

Not wanting to risk a death curse he slammed him into the wall _carefully,_ dropping him to the ground unconscious but not seriously injured. 

Derek looked around at the ruin left in the aftermath of the fight.  The walls were riddled with gaping cracks and occasional splatters of blood.  Hopefully if anyone came along before the brothers Grimm woke up they’d think the two men had had some bizarre car crash, what with the crushed Jag and all.

His own situation was more problematic.  He was covered in blood of a couple different colors and the slugs that had gone through his chest, which was still healing, had put what were unmistakably bullet holes through the back of his jacket.  His jeans looked alright though.  An evil grin spread over his face as the perfect solution occurred to him.

 

Five minutes later back in the waiting area down the hall from Stiles’s room sporting his newly appropriated shirt and leather coat.  It was only fair, since the wizard ruined his and all.  Besides it was such a magnificent “fuck you,” not to mention the protective spells that were tattooed into the leather were certain to come in handy for round two.

“Problem’s taken care of for now, but we need to get moving as soon as we can.  Next time you hear someone coming to check on Stiles try and wake him so he can get started on being discharged.”

“Cool.”  Scott’s answering whisper let Derek relax a little, allowing exhaustion to gain a foothold.

“I have to go back to my hotel and get cleaned up.  I also have to make some calls to the local packs and see if I can get some backup.  Stay sharp.”

Knowing Scott had heard him Derek turned and exited the hospital, drawing a narrow-eyed stare from a diminutive but competent-looking female detective who was arguing with a nurse in admitting.  Fortunately she was occupied and Derek on the way out.  He might have to rethink the duster if was going to draw that much attention from local law enforcement.

Outside he hailed a cab, desperately trying to not smell the interior as he rode back to the hotel.   He needed a shower and at least a few hours of sleep, but knew he’d probably only get the former.  Also, there was no putting off sorting out his feelings about Stiles.  He’d gone declared for the entire supernatural world to hear that Stiles was his pack.  Adding a pile of his own angst on top of this burgeoning clusterfuck a good way to get all of them killed.

Almost two thousand miles from home and still it felt like just another day in Beacon Hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, everyone is mostly alive.
> 
> Yeah I totally went there with the coat.
> 
> Next time....
> 
> Stiles continues to deal with the fallout from his casting but meets some people that can help.  
> Meanwhile his family reunion gets going sooner than he expected and not at all how he planned.


	4. You, my friend, are a victim of disorganized thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles continues to be stalked by demonic jewelry, but some friendly wolf-wolfs take him to see a friend of theirs.
> 
> He meets a wizard, a potential new crush, and a future partner in crime.
> 
> He also realizes how screwed they all are.

Stiles woke feeling like every hangover he’d ever had were having a family reunion in his head.

“Ungh, did Ebenezar make me dance on the table again?”

“No such luck kiddo.”  His father’s face swam into view wearing the usual expression of fond exasperation.  Scott liked to call it “Stiles Face.”  According to him it was universal among people who spent any amount of time around Stiles.  “Do you remember what happened?”

His bells were still ringing a bit but he didn’t think there was any underlying sheriff-y interrogation in the question, just parental concern.  “Um…blackout, slipped, headbang?”

“More or less.”  His dad laughed, relief evident in his voice.  “Scott can fill you in while I find a doctor.  I’m sure you want to get out of here ASAP.”  He nodded and left the room.

“Yeah, thanks.”  What he really wanted was a handful of aspirin, with a side order of being unconscious again.  Unfortunately Scott had never been the sort to delay collecting on free I told you so’s.

“Man you made a hell of a scene.”

“I remember.”  It was embarrassing as hell, being dragged into the ER by his Dad and Scott while shrieking like a banshee about everything and anything.  When they’d wrestled him into the car he’d started babbling about automobile fatality statistics.  He could hear every sound from every engine on the road and kept up a running commentary of the potential fiery death zooming all around them.  At the hospital doors he _really_ got into fine form, screaming a litany about MRSA, medical malpractice, and bird flu. 

What he no intention of ever bringing up was how incredible it had felt at the time.  He’d been able to sense _everything_.  His vision had been beyond perfect, extending into both the ultraviolet and infrared.  Every slight puff of air had brought with it libraries of information through smell and taste and touch.  The most amazing things were they the senses that had no human equivalent.  He couldn’t just _hear_ heartbeats, he could _sense_ the crackling electricity that emanated with every pulse of cardiac muscle, not to mention the exact location of every wire and electronic device in a hundred foot radius.  The hyperkinesthesia and echolocation made him feel like he was in contact with everything around him.  He knew exactly where to put his body to move how he needed; gone was the all spastic flailing.

If the getting Bite was _anything_ like this he owed some people apologies for criticizing their life choices.

“What happened to my ring?”

“Oh _that_.  Uh, somehow it got on our finger?” he said sheepishly.  “When I saw it and took it off your freak out stopped.  Good thing to; the doctors were having trouble keeping you sedated.”

“Where is it?”  Stiles was _not_ thinking about when he could get another hit of psychedelic super senses, no siree Bob.

“Derek threw it in with the medical waste.”  Scott at least had the good grace to look apologetic.

He was going to kill Derek for…Wait.  “Derek’s here!?”  He squeaked and clutched the thoroughly embarassing hospital gown that was mostly covering him.

“Yeah…he’s kinda…pissed…a little.  I guess when you did the spell it caused a bit of a…stir?  Deaton found out about it in like, less than an hour and called Derek.”

“Stupid, overreacting Sourwolf.”  Stiles hoped “warm and fuzzy” did not have a scent; the blush that was creeping up his neck was bad enough.

“Not really overreacting.  There was a vampire stalking you when we got here; it had even been in your room!  He ran it off for now but he looked kinda thrashed.”  Scott did not look excited at the prospect of fighting it himself if had given _Derek_ that much trouble.

Stiles rational survival-oriented fear began rapidly losing ground to his rising curiosity.  “A vampire!?  What kind?”

“Uh…I want to say…White Supremacist?  But that can’t be right.  Something about life-sucking psychic sex monsters?”

Stiles rolled his eyes at Scott’s vocabulary antics, his headache suddenly forgotten.  He needed to get Scott a word of the day app, which reminded him…  “Hey where’s my phone?”

“It’s gone, dude.  Every cell phone in the hotel died when that the magical power surge thingy happened.  Yours actually burst into _flames_.”

“Damn that’s cool, but kind of inconvenient.  We’re flying blind until I can access the pack’s cloud server.”  The shared digital storage was one the perks to finally bringing Danny in, at least to team human.  Like Lydia he was pissed about all the secrets and lies and made them all promise to share information fully from then on, hence the restricted server that anyone in the pack could use.  “Or I guess we could wait around for Derek to pop up and impart a few choice nuggets of wisdom.”  Getting vital information out of the Alpha was generally like trying to wrestle a hundred dollar bill out of the hand of Scrooge.

“What do remember off the top of your head?”  Scott looked equally worried that their lives might depend on Derek actually being forthcoming.

“Just general stuff.  The White Court lives off chi obtained via strong emotions like lust, fear, or despair.  They can tap the stolen energy for speed and healing and stuff but it runs out if they don’t feed.  But that’s not usually a problem for them since it’s rumored they can start a friggin’ _orgy_ with a just a sexy wink.”  Maybe his sexual experience would be option three: virgin sacrifice _while_ losing his virginity.  Stiles supposed it was better than most of the death scenarios that had him waking up in cold sweat every other night.

“Is there any easy way to get rid of it?  Derek said there wasn’t but…”

“Yeah, he’s not the most reliable authority.”  Stiles thought about it for a moment.  “There is one thing…maybe.  It’s one of those things I’m not really supposed to know about.”  In fact, had a whole ghost drive on his computer where he hoarded them.

“Is it dangerous?”  His tone was clearly asking if it was sane-people-dangerous instead of Stiles-great-idea-for-a-Sunday-night-in-the-preserve dangerous.

“Sort of.  There was an addendum at the back of the Bestiary that talked about the “Unseelie Accords of 1994”.  It took Danny a while to get through the Argent’s firewalls but even _they_ didn’t have a copy.”

“Accords?  That’s like a treaty, right?”

“Kinda.  All the big supernatural powers supposedly met a while back and wrote down a bunch of rules about diplomacy and stuff.”

“How does that help us?”  Scott visibly shied away from the thought of Stiles playing Monster Ambassador.

“The White Court has gotta be a member.  Another member could lodge a challenge or negotiate a ceasefire and make them back off.  Even scary monsters are afraid of breaking the Accords.”

“But we’re not members!”

“No but _Derek_ is.  The Shifter Alphas signed on as a kind of confederacy; it’s why the Argents added the note in the bestiary.  Since Derek’s the Alpha of the Beacon Hills pack and a Hale, he _might_ have enough clout to call a parley.”

“What’s the catch?  I heard your heart skipping all through that so I know there’s a catch.”

“See this is why I wanted to make a supersensory ring: all you werewolves cheat.”

“Stiles!”

“Fine!  Derek could only act on my behalf as _my_ Alpha.  He’d have to formally claim me as his pack.”  Stiles tried his best to look wholly displeased at the notion.

His effort was good enough for Scott, who was too busy flipping out to notice his lack of theatrical gravitas.  “Dude no!  You can’t join Derek’s pack; you’re in _my_ pack!”

“Yeesh, Scott, possessive much?”  His scoff was met with angry glowing eyes that were more orange than yellow.

“What, you _want_ to?  You said you didn’t want the Bite!  And from _Derek._ ”  His face looked like Stiles suggested he make out with Jackson Whittemore in Kanima form.

“I don’t and I didn’t.  Not really.”

“Not.  Really.”  Crap.  Time to backtrack

“Superpowers are cool, okay?  I’d never do it though because I know it would _kill_ you Scott, and there’s no way I could handle going through this without you.”

His best friend looked so touched by that that Stiles was wrapping him in a crushing hug before he knew what he doing.

“You’re not just my pack, Scott, you’re my brother and I’m with you one hundred percent.  It’s just…sometimes Robin wonders what it’s like to be Batman.”

“I get that, I really do.”

 

They were still standing like that when the Sheriff returned with the doctor.  Stiles felt another pang when he saw how happy his father was at seeing them embrace.  He should have expected his dad would notice all the drifting apart that had been going on.  At least they were on the way to fixing things.

“Here’s the doctor, let’s get you checked out.”

 

After a brief exam he was pronounced non-concussed and fully healthy.  The doctor suggested remaining for observation but didn’t press the issue.  Stiles suspected his father had had a talk with him about Stiles’s history with hospitals.

About twenty minutes later a perky nurse came in with his clothes and personal effects, lingering for a moment to fawn over Scott.  The guy had perfected the art nurse-whispering hanging out in the hospital during his parents’ divorce.  Stiles was glad to see his friend using one of his superpowers for good for change.  For more than just for Lacrosse anyway. 

His glad feeling was quickly replaced by unease and confusion when his magic ring came tumbling out with his wallet and keys.

“Hey…Scott?  I thought you said you know who threw this out?”  He kept his panic to a whisper while the Sheriff was filling out forms just a few feet away.

Scott looked more _terrified_ than uneasy.  “He did.  He chucked in the biohazard bin out in the hall.  How did it get into a bag of your stuff from the ER?”

“Figures.  My first time performing an enchantment and I somehow accidentally create the freaking One Ring.”  Stiles ran a hand through his hair.  Apparently it had some uses long, at least as nervous tic.

Scott on the other hand just smoothed his features into an expression of stony resolve.  “We’ll just have to try something more direct.”  Before Stiles could react he grabbed the ring off the bed and marched into the bathroom.  The cursed object was soon gone in swirl of water as Scott flushed down the toilet.

“I guess that qualifies.”  Stiles shocked mumble was a little too loud, drawing the Sheriff’s attention. It was disappointing to see how quickly he reverted to staring at them like he was trying to figure out if they were either on drugs, expecting a love child, or plotting world domination.

“Soooooo…pancakes?” Stiles deadpanned into the awkward silence.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

It had taken a lot of cajoling and the purchase of three burner smart phones but eventually the Sheriff agreed to drop them off on campus so they could keep their appointment at the admissions office. 

After they checked into their new hotel, coincidentally the same one Derek was at if Scott’s offended-looking sniffing was any clue, and got cleaned up they headed out.

 

On campus they finally got a chance to hash out their next move.

“Okay, I’m guessing Derek is somewhere nearby, creeping as usual.”  Stiles was pretty sure he only imagined the faint growl of anger in the distance.  “There’s no way I can get out of this meeting without raising all kinds of red flags.  You go meet up with Derek and do your wolf thing while I go keep up appearances.”

“Sometimes I wonder if _you’re_ the real Alpha and me and Derek are in _your_ pack.”  Scott didn’t like the plan but he sulked off with hardly a complaint so maybe he had a point.

 

He was met in the admissions office by svelte middle aged woman, impeccable in a conservative skirt suit and coifed hair

“Welcome Mr. Stilinski!  May I call you Failbhe?”  The Associate Dean practically sang her greeting as she shook his hand.

“Uh, sure?” he agreed, too shocked that someone had actually pronounced his name correctly to protest.

She smiled winsomely at his acquiescence.  “Super!  If you’ll follow me I’d like to review your transcripts and test scores, after which can talk about the application process.  I’m sure you’ll be covering all of this with your school’s college counselor but there’s no substitute for the personal touch, is there?”

For a second Stiles wondered if she was hitting on him.  At a second look at the screwed-on appearance of her smile it seemed more like someone had impressed upon her the importance of impressing _him_.  _Very_ strongly impressed if the tense set of her shoulders was any clue.  Given that this was a private university that survived largely on donations he could guess who.  He made a mental note to ask Uncle Tommy exactly how _much_ money he was dangling over their heads.

“Coffee?”  She gestured to a pot.

“Yes, God.”  It turned out spending most of the night in a valium induced stupor was not exactly restful.  Stiles was running on fumes.

She smiled and poured him a huge mug of the rich and dark liquid Nirvana.  “Cream?  Sugar?”

“Black, please.”

“A man after my own heart,” she said conspiratorially.  Stiles took it as sign of his growing maturity that he didn’t snicker as his brain took that little exchange and _ran_ with it. 

She took a seat behind a huge mahogany desk and made a show of examining the contents a folder with his name on it.  “I must say I really like what I see here.  5.0 GPA, perfect PSAT scores, and a varsity athlete too.  Keep this up and you’ll be able to write your own ticket.”

“Thanks.”  Stiles blushed at the praise.  For some reason he’d never been comfortable with people pointing out his achievements.  Maybe it was because he so used to being invisible.

“I also hear through the grapevine that you’re quite the firebrand too, take after parents.”  He shifted uncomfortably at that.  “No, no, it’s a good thing.  Part of our mission statement is to shake things up a little in the academic world.  It’s so rare for someone to come along with your qualifications and the drive to really push boundaries.”  She relaxed a little as flowed into her pitch.  “So, now that we’ve covered why _we_ want you to join us here at the University of Chicago let’s talk about why _you_ should want to come here.”

“I’d like that.”  For a blissfully normal time he talked about the future and forgot about cursed rings and monsters.

 

An hour and a huge bag of U of C swag later he shook hands with the Dean and said goodbye.  His happy college bubble burst however when he threw back the last dregs of his third cup of Yukon Blend and started choking on something solid that had somehow found its way into the mug the last time he refilled it.  In a panic he staggered out into the hall, directly into a shocked Georgia and a shorter man built like a tank.

“Stiles!” Georgia gasped as he made the universal sign for choking, face purpling.

“Hang on there kid.”  The man slammed a hand in Stiles back driven with all the strength in his impressive arms.

Georgia’s hand shot out and caught the obstruction that came flying out of Stiles’s mouth on reflex.  “What in the world?”  She stared bewildered at Stiles as he wheezed and struggled to regain his breath.  In her hand was the damn ring.  After a moment her eyes widened.  “Will…”

“I feel it too.  Where did you find this?”

“It’s mine.  Must have dropped it my coffee on accident.  Whoopsie.”  The sharp note of hysteria in his voice only made the couple look at him harder.  The fact the he recoiled from the ring when she held it out to him like it was a live cobra probably didn’t help.

“This isn’t the first time it showed up somewhere unexpected, is it?”

Stiles shook his head dejectedly.

“I think you need to talk to someone about this,” Will said seriously.

“Who?  What do I do; look in the yellow pages under Cursed Object Removal?”

The man smiled gamely.  “Actually you’re not that far off.  Come on kid,” he said clapping a hand on Stiles shoulder, “we’re off to see the wizard.”

Of course he was.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

His dad was thrilled he was getting an early lunch with some new friends (he tried not to feel _too_ insulted by the obviously shocked way he’d said so).  Scott, on the other hand, was furious.

“What the hell, Stiles?  You’re just going to go with them?  Are you _nuts_?  They’re not even _human_.”

“Stones and glass houses, Scott.  Look, I gave my dad their full names and one of them is still a student here so it’s not like they’re going to drag me off to Mexico and sell me to human traffickers.”

The Bordens just waited patiently with amused smiles on their faces while he tried to console his friend.

“I need to get rid of this thing.  I feel like I have a panic attack coming on just having it this close to me.”  He cast a cautious glance at his rescuers.  “Besides I’m not leaving you and Derek alone to face the…you know.  Without me to back you two up you’re gonna get _eaten_ and you know it.”

Scott’s sigh was all the concession Stiles was likely to get so he’d have to take it.

“I activated the GPS on all our phones when we bought them so you’ll see if we go anywhere but the address I texted you.”

“Fine.  Remember, if you get kidnapped text CODE: UNICORN.”

“Yes, that’s never getting old.  Never ever.  Whiskey, out.”

“Those handles are so dumb. Why do I have to be Amber while you get to be Whiskey. It sounds like a stripper -“

Stiles hung up on him and turned to the Bordens.

“Okay.  Show me the yellow brick road.”

 

Their destination turned out to be rather underwhelming.  Stiles’ visions of emerald cities and dark fortresses gave way to a nondescript office building downtown.

“This is where we find the wizard?” he asked incredulously.

Borden rolled his eyes.  “What were expecting, exactly?”  The smugly amused look he gave Stiles said he knew exactly what he’d been picturing.

“Whatever, let’s get this over with.”

 

Five floors and a terrifyingly rickety elevator ride later he found himself looking at a door with a frosted glass window, the Words “Harry Dresden, Wizard” emblazoned on it a la film noir.

“You must be joking.”

Will just slid past him and knocked.  At the curt grunt from inside he opened the door and ushered Stiles in.  Behind a scarred old desk sat the gangly, staff-wielding leather aficionado from outside Bock’s.

“You.” The man said in shocked recognition.

“You.” Stiles said in sarcastic retaliation.  He gave the “wizard” his best sullen teen glare.  Right in his eyes.

What followed was may have been the most surreal experience of Stiles’s life.  The was a jerking sensation behind his navel and suddenly he felt like he was falling forward, while the man’s eyes seemed to expand into IMAX sized movie screens.  “O Fortuna” blasted in his head while he saw flashes of the wizard in scenes ranging from reading a book by candlelight and scratching the ears of a huge grey tomcat, to standing in the center of a maelstrom of flame surrounded by hideous creatures shrieked in rage.  Hundreds of snippets of a life of war sped by, on and on, faster and faster as the music built to its climax like some bizarre movie trailer.  With a final blare of brass instruments, Latin, and an image of lightning flashing from a brandished staff, he was flung backwards out of the vision and into the here and now.

“Heh.  Coming to theaters this fall,” he slurred.  Will’s strong arms caught him as he passed out while the wizard grumbled “Oh come on, not _again_.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

A warm wet sensation pulled him back to consciousness; a hot, soft tongue lapping at his ear.

“Mmmmm you’re dirty.”  He giggled sleepily while his eyelids fluttered.  “D’rek, c’mon cut it out.”  It wasn’t that the ear thing wasn’t doing it for him; he was just seventeen, impatient, and had a whole list of other places he’d much rather have Derek lick him.

The sound of throat being cleared snapped him back to alertness.  He sat up with a lurch to see the muzzle of a mammoth shaggy grey pooch that had been giving him sloppy doggy kisses.

“Dude!  Informed consent much?  One day I’m gonna have to work out with a therapist why this whole canine thing works for me so much.”

The dog’s mouth fell open in a grin as it tilted its head to the side.  The expression could almost have been sarcastically subtitled “Sorry but you’re not my type.”

“Everyone’s a comedian.”

He became aware of a choked wheezing sound and looked over by the fireplace to see Will desperately clutching the mantle while Georgia rubbed his back.  He was turning purple with tightly restrained guffaws.  _Werewolves, werewolf-wolfs_ , _always_ making fun of him.  And what kind of office has a fireplace anyway?  He flailed around as he realized he’d been taken somewhere else and ended up crashing to floor with a grunt of pain.  Dogzilla looked down at him with a concerned whine.

“Anyone care to explain?”  He waved his arms around frantically at the den-like basement apartment.

“It was my fault.”  Georgia looked down at the rug-strewn stone floor in mortification.  “You passed out from the soul gaze.  When I tried to wake you the ring somehow made its way out of my purse and onto your finger.”

“You went kind of nuts and had to be knocked out,” Will added.

“Sorry.  Wait, knocked out by who?  With what?”  He needed to stop being rendered unconscious so much before he had to change his name from _Stiles_ to _Giles_.

“That would be me.”

He looked over at the newcomer rising up through a trapdoor in the floor.  His strawberry blond goddess was going to have to make room in her pantheon for the girl.  She was tall, almost six feet and somehow possessed both luscious curves and obvious strength.  She was dressed in as little as the creepy tri-delt from the other day in deference to the summer heat, but in denim cutoffs and a wifebeater.  Everything about her from clothes to her numerous piercings and scarlet and sapphire streaked hair spoke of self-confidence and casual rebellion.

Stiles was worried his eyes might literally fall out of his head.  He looked at up at the dog again.  “ _Definitely_ not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

This time Georgia joined Will in laughing at him good-naturedly.  The new girl sauntered over and pulled him to his feet.  “Molly Carpenter.  I’m Harry’s apprentice.  And this is Mouse.”

Mouse banged his head against stiles side by way of greeting, nearly sending him back to the floor, and eliciting another round of titters from the Bordens.

“Come on, Boss Man wants you down in the Laboratory.”  She said it with it with five syllables, villain-style.

“You guys coming?” he asked the room nervously.

“We’ll wait up here.”  They all continued watching him with barely contained laughter as he stumbled his way over to the trapdoor.

He looked down into the whole in the floor and swallowed loudly.  He screwed up his courage and descended slowly into the candlelit gloom.  The subbasement room was the perfect image of an Arch-villain lair, complete with a long table down the middle on which sat a scale model of the city of Chicago.

When he reached the bottom step the trapdoor slammed shut of its own accord.  After he restarted his heart he looked around at the shelves of jars, books, and other dubious oddments.  “Good thing this place isn’t too sinister.”

The wizard was not in evidence.  Stiles felt like he was being pulled in a hundred directions at once as all of the piles of bizarre junk begged him to investigate.  One thing in particular drew him in.  On a lone shelf sat a human skull surrounded by melted wax and paperback romances.  It almost seemed to vibrating, humming out a siren call and just _demanding_ to be picked up.

As he reached out his hands to pick it up he felt a…flicker from the shadows over by a braided metal ring set into the floor.  He knelt down and touched the circle.  It buzzed like a high power line, patterns of energy flowing through it giving strength to contain, amplify, and bind.  Almost on reflex he closed the circle with his will.

The sudden appearance of the wizard glowering down at him menacingly from within the circle, whatever concealing magics broken by the circle, sent him scuttling backwards with a frightened squawk.  The angry glower turned into one of shock as the man moved to break the circle and…couldn’t.

“You were right. Bob.  The kid’s got a gift.  I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“Instinctively reworking an enchantment from a magical barrier into a physical one on the fly?  You might be able to pull that off in another century or so.  And he has the sensitivity to detect the enchantments on my vessel.  Not even the cookie could do that right out of the gate.”

Stiles looked up to find the second voice coming from the skull.  He flinched away, banging his head on the table holding the voodoo metropolis as the flickers of orange flame in “Bob’s” eye sockets focused on him.

“Um…hi?”

“Hello, Stiles.  I’m Harry Dresden and this is Bob.”

“So…anyone want to explain why I’ve been abducted and taken to Bag End?”

“Ha!  Harry, I’ve think you’ve found geeky sarcastic soul mate!  And he’s a teenage boy!”  The skull was rattling around with glee.  Its expression turned leering, which was impressive in the absence of eyebrows or lips.  “Is there something you want to tell me, Harry?  Might explain why you’ve only dated two women in the last twenty years.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in obvious frustration but chuckled softly under his breath. “I have to get going.  The…meeting is in twenty minutes.”  He held out a hand to the invisible barrier, muttered something and stamped his foot.  Stiles felt the power contained in the circle swirl down into the earth and vanish.  “You will give the kid _only_ what assistance he needs to fix his problem and then you will become an inanimate knick-knack, understood?” 

“Heil, mein fuhrer.”

“Try not to blow up my lab, and don’t mention Bob to the people upstairs.  A friend of mine vouched for you but the skull is need to know.”

“I’m a ticking bomb!” Bob exclaimed proudly.

“Huh?”  Stiles edged away from the skull, provoking another peal of mad cackling.

Without another word the wizard stalked past and started up the stairs.

“Hey, what happened to the coat?” Stiles blurted.

The man jerked at the question, anger seeping into his posture, but he just shook his head and continued up the stairs, shutting the trapdoor behind him.

“Well there’s a fun guy.”  He turned to the skull.  “So…Bob.  You’re gonna help me un-curse myself?”  He was beginning to feel oddly calm, like his weird-o-meter had broken under strain and things like talking skulls had simply lost their ability to impress.

“We could do that.  But what Harry actually _said_ was “fix your problem”.  Boss has a bit of a soft spot for wayward kids and I’m not sure turning you loose untrained is really in his best interests.”

Stiles smirked mischievously while he processed Bob’s very deliberately chosen words.  “So.  I guess the question is where _my_ problem and _his_ problem overlap.”  He paused making an exaggerated expression of contemplation while tapping a finger on his chin.  “I suppose the only way to solve all of our problems would be for me to reach my full potential as fast as possible.  That way I could look after myself and not drag Harry into my issues.  Everyone wins.”

The skull nodded seriously.  “You proposal seems both logical and equitable.”

“Groovy.  Then we have a deal.” 

 “Okay!”  The skull quivered excitedly on the shelf.  Stiles didn’t know what the hell the thing was but it seemed that mischief and the desire to impart knowledge were central to its nature.  If their matching evil grins were any indication this partnership was going to be the best kind of constructive chaos.

 “So, did the enchantment work?” Bob asked getting down to business.  “Did it do what it was supposed to?”

“More or less.  It was supposed to enhance my senses but also causes a serious freak-out every time I put it on.”

“Let me guess, you made it to help keep an eye out for danger, right?”

“That’s the general idea.  I’ve been spending a lot of time running from monsters lately.”  Stiles thought about that for a moment and face-palmed when it finally clicked.  “Hypervigilance!”

“Exactly.  Your fear contaminated the spell, turning watchfulness into paranoia.  It’s also what keeps bringing it back to you.”

“I powered up the outer circle using werewolf blood instead of my own.  That’s what screwed it up isn’t it.”

“Yup,” the skull replied happily.  “Your subconscious mind sensed the foreign energy compromising the integrity of the circle.”

“So how do I fix, erm, _repair the ring_?”  Best to keep up the lawyer speak.

“Simple, you just need a bit of the knowhow you’ll need to fix your problem.  Attend.”

 

An hour later he not only got the ring working correctly, he had plans to construct a whole suite of items for different purposes.  Even under Bob’s instruction he couldn’t so much as light a candle with magic; his gift was exclusively for aligning and manipulating existing patterns of energy and binding them to specially prepared items.  There wasn’t a lot of flash and bang but the skull’s estimation were right he might one day be the most skilled enchanter in _centuries_.

After an hour of intense discussion they decided they were pushing their luck for today.  After giving Bob his phone, Skype, and email so they could get in touch on the spirit’s “days off”, he slid the freshly ring on third finger of his right hand and took everything in.

It was even better than before.  Instead of pulse pounding terror he felt a serene kind of surety.  He was aware of absolutely everything but could actively regulate the intensity of the effects.  Thanks to flash of insight that made Bob crow in approval he’d even managed to tweak it so he could visualize magic if he needed to.

“Thank you so much, Bob!  I wish I could stay and pick your brain forever but I’ve got to go rescue Scott and Derek’s werewolf butts from an angry incubus, and somehow still make it to the McCoy family fustercluck by dinnertime.”  He turned to leave but the skull began to sputter and bounce up and down apoplectically.

“That’s where you got the werewolf blood!?  Not humans who use magic to transform themselves like Billy and Georgia, but from _lycanoform cryptometamorphs_ , actual _natural_ shape shifters!?”

“I only mostly understood that but…yes?”

“That’s what Harry’s “meeting” was about!  A Shifter Alpha challenged his brother Thomas to a duel under the Accords it’s going on right now!”  A chagrined look came over the skull.  “Uh..could you maybe forget some of the things I just said?”

A horrible suspicion rose in Stiles.  He hadn’t been able to shake the niggling sense of familiarity about wizard; something in the shape of his jaw and around the eyes.  Now he knew why. “Thomas?  Thomas Raith?”  The skull nodded grimly.  “My Uncle Tommy is a fucking _White Court Vampire!?_

“Interesting choice of words considering,” the skull quipped with a suggestive wiggle of bony brow ridges.

“Shut it _Yorick,_ this is serious!  The guy I have a crush on is about to have a battle royale with my parents’ best friend from college and all I have is the magically enhanced ability to watch helplessly from the sidelines.”  The skull had snapped its jaws closed with a click at Stiles’s outburst but was now shaking with the effort of holding something back.  “Oh, fine, just spit it out!”

“Harry called on his mentor, a Senior Council member, to act as arbiter since he was in town.”

“That’s…bad.  Aren’t they like, the most powerful human beings on _earth_?”  Stiles, never slow on the uptake, asked in a quiet voice “What’s his _name_.”

“Ebenezar McCoy.”

He pulled out his phone only to find it dead.  “Damn it!”  He hurled the useless hunk of hardware at the wall where it shattered.  No phone meant no GPS, which meant his father had probably gone to the cops by now and Scott and Derek would be out for blood thinking he’d been taken or worse.’

“I swear somebody upstairs is screwing with me.”

“You’re probably more right than you know.”

Stiles had never felt more helpless.  This was even worse than the night at the station.  Werewolves and Kanimas were bad enough but now he was dealing with vampire, wizards, and lecherous talking skulls too.  The fact they were all his friends and family only made it worse.  He knew he wasn’t the nicest person and he was not at all certain he could forgive whoever happened to be left standing after they ripped each other apart.

The familiar clench in his chest that signaled a panic attack felt like the last nail in the coffin.  But his deep, ragged breaths brought a familiar scent to his enhanced sniffer that shocked him into stillness.

“Bob, is that _Mountain Ash_ I smell?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got away from me a bit during the editing process. At this point I'm posting it as much to stop myself from endlessly fiddling with as meet my deadline.
> 
> Trying to give Stiles enough potential awesome without totally overbalancing his relationship dynamics seems to be a frequent problem in Derek/Stiles fics.
> 
> I'm planning on two more long chapters (hopefully shorter than this one) and two shorter epilogues, so a whole lot is about to go down. Not everything will be explained or resolved since this is the first fic in a series and I don't want the individual installments to mutate into behemoths of epicness.
> 
> Next time...
> 
> The morning from Derek's POV. Things do not happen quite the way Stiles heard from Bob. But what else may be lurking in the fog of war...?
> 
> (Also, the Sheriff reconnects with an old friend and joins the party. How in the world will Stiles and Scott explain this mess...?)


	5. Silly rabbit.  Trix are for kids.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek tries to mend fences with Scott, which goes well.  
> He then tries to give him a lesson in tracking and they find a whole lot more trouble than they were looking for.
> 
> Stiles brings in the cavalry, but after the battle nothing will ever be the same as choices are made and secrets revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is: our epic action-packed climax. I wanted 3000 words but wound up with twice that cuz this fic is writing me, not the other way around.
> 
> If you want an idea of the craziness about to unfold, check the updated tags.
> 
> This is me giving canon compliance a bombastic send off.
> 
> Once more I'm skimping on the edits because half the fun is putting this out there.

“Sooooooo…what’s going on between you and Stiles?”

For the millionth time since Scott was bitten Derek wondered if werewolf tongues grow back after being ripped out.  However, he had just enough self-awareness to understand that his anger was in large part stemming from the infuriating lack of anything at all going on between him and Stiles.  But then, he had made an anchor out of that kind impotent rage.  Taking what he wanted from Stiles, even if it never went beyond simple comfort, meant risking losing that control. If he went to pieces right now without a strong pack behind him it would be left to Stiles to put him back together.  With the Alphas lurking around placing such a burden on a seventeen year old high school junior would basically be an elaborate form of murder-suicide.

He considered sharing his concerns with Scott.  If nothing it else would shut the kid up, possibly forever.  Scott would have a stroke he heard _Derek Hale_ verbalizing his feelings with a modicum of self-awareness in, gasp, complete sentences.

“Nothing,” he growled instead. 

“If you say so.”  Damn but Derek wanted to claw that grin clean off. 

For a while they were quiet while Derek drove his rental back to the hospital. Scott’s constant fidgeting screamed that there was something he wanted to get off his chest, mouth opening and closing with false starts like a fish trying to breath in too shallow water. 

Derek was just about to put the kid out of his misery and speak first when Scott whispered “I think I need your help.”

He wondered briefly if Illinois sold Powerball tickets before the brokenness of the Beta’s expression froze the scathing rejoinder on the tip of his tongue.  Utterly at a loss for words at the sudden one-eighty in their relationship he just waited for Scott to continue.

“A vampire got into my best friend’s hospital room while he and dad were asleep and helpless because I got distracted reading Allison’s old texts when I went to the vending machine.  What’s worse is I didn’t even know they existed because I’ve spent the last three months studying Melville and Trig instead of how not to get _eaten_.”

Derek decided to give a gentle push.  “It’s about finding and anchor, Scott, something to help you keep your balance.”

“That’s the thing; I thought Allison was my anchor but she wasn’t, was she?  She didn’t help keep me in place.  Instead I let her drag me under, because when I was with her I could forget about the wolf for a while.”

“I know you never wanted this.”  He was at a loss for how to deal with this.  After a moment of floundering for something to say tried to imagine what Stiles would say in this situation.  He settled on humor.  “We could always kill Peter again.  I said we were brothers once; we could make this a family project!”

Scott laughed just a little too loud.  “Yeah maybe,” he said before his somber mood returned with a vengeance.  “I don’t think you’d want me as a brother.  Stiles is the closest thing I have to one and in six months he’s been chased, beaten, kidnapped, cursed, nearly drowned, poisoned, stalked, and forced to set a man on fire, all because he was trying to help me.”

“Most of those things weren’t really your fault,” Derek said lightly.

Scott snorted.  “Maybe not, but it’s not like I’ve done a lot to make things better.”

“You wanted a normal life.”  Didn’t they all.

“That’s what I told myself.  But it was a lie.  I wanted the most amazing girl at school, to be the star of the team, to be a hero.  That’s a dream life, not a normal one.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that.

 

Derek waited until they pulled into the hospital parking lot to say anything else.  They were actually making progress and he wanted to be able to do it face to face.

“I guess there’s just one question then,” he said.  “If you could go back would you change it?  Would you have stayed home that night if you knew?”

Scott stared into lap for a while before answering “No.”

Derek put a reassuring hand on the young wolf’s shoulder.  “Then you have nothing to regret.  Trust me, I know.”

Scott then displayed one of his best qualities, giving Derek’s hand a squeeze and putting his own issues on the back burner to comfort someone else.  There was a reason this kid kept winning people over, questionable decision making and all.

 

They sat like that for a minute enjoying the cleared air between them.  Eventually the heaviness of what lay before them seeped back in.

“What do we do first?” Scott asked.  Derek’s inner wolf rumbled happily at the show of deference.

He was determined not to lose all the progress they’d made by indulging it.  “You tell me.  Think like a wolf: select a target and use your pack’s assets to take it down quick and clean.”

Scott frowned at that, visibly distressed at the prospect of more violence.  “We don’t want to try taking on the wizard.  You got the drop on him because he underestimated you.  Next time he won’t make the mistake of letting us close on him.  The vampire’s the better target.  Working together we should be able to handle him.”

“And after that?  He’s not likely to forget this and they can live an awfully long time.”

“I pulled up the entry on wizards in Stiles’s database and it said they never break an oath sworn on their own power.  If we can take the vamp alive we can make a deal with the wizard and no one has to die.”

Derek wasn’t going to point out the naiveté of the plan, especially since Scott already looked less than confident.  “Okay then, we have somewhere to start.  How do we find him?”

“You said he was hurt pretty bad.  If he had to stop and feed then there should be a trail we can follow.  If you’re right about how pissed he’ll be, we just have to get _close_ and wait for him to jump us.”

“How will you find the trail?”

“I know your scent.  I can track that to the scene of the fight.  With the amount of bleeding he did it should be easy to pick up his.  I’ve never tracked anyone in a city like this, but you lived in New York so I’m guessing you can I even if it turns out I can’t.”

Derek shrugged noncommittally, wanting him to make his initial observations unbiased.  “Lead the way.”  He stamped down on the urge to puff out his chest like a proud Papa and followed Scott.

 

The longer that they followed the trail the more confident and excited Scott became, and the more worried Derek got.  In a big city like Chicago scents tended to get muddled fast as millions of people, cars, and innumerable synthetic chemicals churned the air into a pungent symphony of odors.  _This_ scent, however, wasn’t muddled, it was murky somehow.  The trail ran clear as day away from the commercial and residential areas into a run-down industrial zone.  At the end of it sat a huge abandoned warehouse, its hulking stone and steel façade looking more like a maximum security prison than a factory.

Derek frowned at the heavy rusted door, left open just wide enough for one man to enter at a time.  “I don’t like this; it was-

“Don’t say too easy.  Seriously don’t we know better by now?”  Scott’s instincts were picking up the wrongness of the place too, trepidation smothering the pride of his successful hunt.

“Carefully then.”

They crept into the cavernous dark of the old building claws out and ready.  Whatever this place had originally been used for apparently required reinforced walls and a near total lack of windows.  The only light within came from a dim flickering behind some old shipping crates. 

Derek held up a fist signaling for Scott to hold back.  As he edged around the stack he found the source of the illumination to be five candles set in a circle around a familiar object.  It was his ruined leather jacket.  The spatters of blood, both dark red and opalescent pink were glowing faintly, wisps of light streaming up to twist and swirl into a braid with the smoke from the candles that snaked through the air and out the open door.

The click of someone working the slide on a semiautomatic punctuated Derek’s realization of how thoroughly screwed they were. He whirled back to Scott, who was making a perfect target silhouetted by the dim glow through the open door.

He ran forward and shouldered Scott aside just as the shot rang out, bullet striking the meat of his thigh and shattering the femur.  Almost immediately he felt the creeping sickness of wolfsbane leeching into his bloodstream from the wound.

“Derek!”  Scott rushed to his side.  “C’mon we have to move.”

He was equal parts touched and exasperated by the heroics.  “Get out of here you idiot there’s nothing you can do.”

“He’s right,” the vampire said ghosting out of the shadows holding a freaking Desert Eagle in one hand.  “Now run along like a good puppy.  I’m still awfully hungry after getting my lungs eviscerated last night and you’re not old enough to buy a ticket to this show.”

“You mean your gong to…”  Derek tried not to take offense at the nausea in Scott’s voice. Most women and at least ten percent of men would probably have a lust-induced seizure at the idea of watching him and the vampire together.  Apparently he still had a ways to go in overcoming Scott’s excessively low opinion of him.

“I’ve never really favored feeding of the bucks but I’m guessing a hot hunk of werewolf would be a once in a lifetime meal.”  Those silver eyes made a reappearance as the vampire’s gaze turned predatory.  Derek couldn’t help but appreciate the irony that he was about to be devoured by an incubus just as he was considering expanding his sexual horizons.

“You’re sick!  You can’t just do…that to people.”  The Beta was fully shifted now and shaking with anger.

Ah, Scott was _morally_ outraged not Derek-is-scum outraged.  Derek felt better but promised himself he’d later examine how his self-esteem had become tied to the opinions of teenage boys.

“Is this kid real?” the vampire asked in a stage-whispered aside.

“I’ve often asked myself the same question,” Derek mumbled.  Shit, the wolfsbane was spreading fast.

“We’re all predators here puppy,” the vamp said to Scott.  “We stalk, we kill, and we defend our territory from challengers.”  The incubus was starting to sound bored with monster Sunday school, which meant they were just about out of time.

But something the vampire had said caused Scott’s ears to perk up, literally as he was currently shifted.  His brow furrowed like he was thinking furiously before he took a deep breath and declared “Then as Alpha of the McCall pack I challenge you in the name of the Unsealed Accords!”

Seeing the vampire’s flabbergasted expression was too much for Derek.  He fell back onto the concrete floor and laughed uncontroolobly for at least a few minutes while the other two stared at him like he’d gone insane.  When he realized what he must look like rolling on the floor, cackling like a madman, black sludge oozing out him, and eyes flickering like red Christmas lights, he cracked up all over again.

It seemed even life-sucking monsters were not immune to the bumbling ball of adorableness that was Scott McCall.  “Kid I think I like you.  Fine.  Parley at noon, Accorded Neutral Territory, mutual truce until then.”

“Done.”

The vampire put away his sidearm, magically disappearing somewhere into jeans so tight even _Derek_ doubted he’d want to wear them (he figured it must an incubus thing). 

The model/vampire pulled out a cell phone and sauntered off to one side.

Meanwhile Derek marshaled his strength to tear Scott a new one.  He lashed out an arm and drew the moron down to him so he could whisper-scream in his face.  “What.  The.  Fuck.  Are. You.  Doing.” 

“Stiles told me about the Accords, I thought-

“You _thought_?  First of all it’s the _Unseelie_ Accords.  Second, you’re not actually an Alpha.  Third, if word of this gets back to the packs they could decide I’m not worthy of my Alpha status and execute me and all of my Betas in the name of keeping the peace.  And while we’re at it, _Kissinger_ , how about you _negotiate_ me a bullet before I die right in front of you.”

“We’re alive for now, that’s a step in the right direction.”

Derek slammed his head back down sending a spider web of cracks through the floor.  His relationship with Scott was two steps forward, one step back.  But, damn it, he was right.

The vampire hung up his phone and walked back over to them.  “Well it’s all set up.  Before I go would you mind telling me who you are and why you’re so hell bent on hunting my nephew?”

Derek stared at him stunned while the pieces clicked into place.

“You’re _“Uncle Tommy”!? Stiles’s “Uncle Tommy!?”_ Scott shrieked.

A similar avalanche of realization crashed over Thomas’s face.  “You’re _Scott_ McCall, from Beacon Hills?”  Scott nodded.

“Well this is awkward,” Derek deadpanned.

That time it was the incubus that started laughing.  After a moment the werewolves joined in.  Eventually the pain in his leg demanded Derek’s attention.  They could untangle this mess later, and maybe explain how a vampire and a wizard could be brothers as well as close friends of the Sheriff of all people.  “I need another bullet to neutralize the wolfsbane.  Scott, get one of the candles from the misdirection spell over there; I didn’t bring a lighter.”

The humor vanished from Thomas’s face in an instant.  “Misdirection spell?”

“We thought tracked your scent here but it was a spell designed to lure us.”  Dread piled into Derek’s gut like heavy stones.  “You and the wizard didn’t cast the spell?”

“No.  I found you through your hotel registration and got a friend to hack the GPS on your cell phone.  What is your real name by the way?”

“Derek Hale.  Now that the introductions are out of the way, let’s get my leg fixed so we can make with the running like hell.”  He didn’t bother stating the obvious.  They both knew it was _way_ too late to escape.

Scott wasn’t quite there yet.  “What do you mean?” he asked just as a horrible sensation of cold slithered over Derek’s skin, bringing with it the scent of old blood and rotten fruit.

“Red Court,” Thomas hissed drawing his gun as well as a huge bent-bladed knife.  Derek was seriously baffled.  Tthe guy was wearing jeans and a fitted tee.  Where was he conjuring these weapons from?  Accio sidearms!

Fast as Thomas was it didn’t matter.  Shadows coalesced into slithering tentacles that had them all bound and helpless before Derek could even blink.  The darkness parted and revealed what looked a young man in his twenties.  Apart from the fangs and solid black eyes he looked every inch the stereotypical surfer, from his flip-flops up to his mop of sun-bleached hair.

If Derek could currently speak he’d have a few choice expletives to say but weakened by the wolfsbane he didn’t have a prayer of throwing of the binding.  The youthful beach bum guise had to be deliberately ironic as only the most powerful and ancient members of the Red Court could walk around slinging this kind of power about in the middle of the day.

Those empty eyes turned to stare into his _.  “Yes, you understand,”_ a voice slithered through his mind like some dark slimy thing from a subterranean pool.  _“I should thank you Derek Hale.  Because of you all three of the Blackstaff’s kin will soon be in my grasp.  After I kill the wizard and the White bastard, I’ll turn the cute motor mouth kid and give him the puppy for his first kill while you watch.”_   He walked over and knelt beside Derek.  _“As a reward for all your unwitting help I’ll let you live.  Every boy needs a dog after all.”_ Icy hands ruffled his hair while that corrupt voice laughed in his mind.  _“Once I present the two of you to my mistress as her loyal new vassals she will have had her revenge, and I will win my place among the highest lords of the court.”_   A long pink tongue darted out and slid around his chin in slavering anticipation.  _“All I have to do is wait.”_

 

He didn’t have to wait long.  At the sound of tires screeching nearby the Red melted into the shadows, which receded up into the superstructure of the ware house.  Derek could see how the hook had been baited.  He, Scott, and Thomas sat frozen in a tableau of violence.  Anyone who walked in would be instantly distracted by the scene in front of them.

Which is exactly what happened.

Stiles familiar heartbeat and scent preceded him into the warehouse.  “Stop!” he cried rushing in.  To make matters worse he flung out a hand, scattering mound of Mountain Ash that fell into rings around the three of them.

Once the circles sealed them in, they also cut off the bindings from the vampire powering them.  Derek and the others let out pained shouts as the disrupted spells backlashed through them, sending Thomas and Scott to their knees.

“Stiles run,” he croaked out.

Stiles terrified expression vanished behind a roguish wink before reforming a split second later.  “Oh my God, Derek!”  He rushed over to him, carefully not breaking the circle.  “What happened to you!?  Why did you attack Uncle Tommy!?”  Derek gave him four out of five stars for his performance.

It was certainly good enough for the guest villain.  The shadows coalesced behind Stiles into the form of the Red Noble.  “How good of you to join us, _Stiles_.”  Tanned arms struck like vipers, pinning the boy back against the vampire’s chest.  “Today you’re going to earn your _real_ name, Failbhe.  You’ll take a little nap and then you’ll take the life of your best friend, wolf-slayer.”  That long pink tongue snaked out and licked a trail up Stiles’s neck, making gasp and jerk.

Derek wanted to scream in denial as Stiles sank under the narcotic power of the vampire’s Kiss.  Thomas tried to stand but was still too disoriented from the clumsy counterspell.  Scott was another matter.

With a ringing roar of challenge that made Derek flinch, Alpha or no, he flung himself at the barrier which erupted in violet light.

“Scott no!”  Derek tried to shout but darkness was starting to creep into his peripheral vision as the poison in his veins muddled his consciousness.

The vampire watched interested for a moment as Scott scrabbled against the intangible force for a few more seconds before being flung back down.  “Sit.  Stay.  Don’t hurt yourself; I want you to be able to watch this.  All that rage and despair will make my new son’s first meal so much sweeter.”  With mocking slowness he lowered his face into Stiles neck and bit, eliciting barely more than a moan and some feeble stirring.

“Scott howled and threw himself at the barrier again, claws digging in and feet scrabbling on the concrete.  “Get.  Off.  My.  Brother.  You.  Son.  Of.  A.  BITCH!”  Amber eyes were suddenly suffused with brilliant scarlet radiance as he shattered the circle with a roar of triumph.

Another, more leonine roar answered from the open door behind the vampire.  Derek turned his shocked face toward the enormous gray dog that stood there wrapped in an aura of cool blue power.

The blissed-out look on Stiles’s face vanished as he made his move, palming a large white crystal and shoving it in the vampire’s mouth that was hanging open in shock.  Flames erupted on its skin as narrow beams of captured sunlight ripped their way out through its mouth and throat.  Stiles dove forward into a roll as two huge wolves lunged out of the shadows and tackled the wounded Red to the ground, worrying at it with their jaws.

The dog rushed to Stiles side and gave him some reassuring sloppy kisses.  It turned to look at Scott and Derek.  _“Guard Stiles, the Boss Vamp isn’t alone in here.”_ Derek nodded as the beast joined the fray with the wolves.

“How can the dog speak?  Better yet why can I understand him?” Scott asked bewildered.

“That’s a Foo Dog,” Derek said at the same time Stiles said “That’s Mouse.”

Stiles knelt next to Derek’s side, pulling out a handful of wolfsbane ash and shoving it into the bullet wound without preamble.  He dug a couple of vials out of his pocket.  “Stop whining and drink this; it’s vamp venom antidote.”  He gave one to each of them.  “Damn, Derek this leg is messed up.”  He ran a hand through his hair and bit his lip nervously.  Burst of pained whimpers from canine throats behind them attested to the Vampire Noble being down but not out.  “We don’t have time for you to heal normally.  _This_ is going to hurt.”  He dumped the contents of a third vial onto the injury. 

Derek’s world went white with agony.  He couldn’t move, speak, or even breath while whatever unholy concoction Stiles had dosed him with did its work.  All he could do was listen to Scott and Stiles argue.

“So help me Scott if you go all “I’m the Alpha” on me I will _neuter_ you.”

“That would be a waste,” slurred Thomas from inside his circle.  Apparantly he’d gotten a much bigger dose of the whammy.

“We need to stay and finish this.  That thing bit you; I’m pretty sure that’s really, really bad.”

“No shit.  Unfortunately he’s also got a dozen retainers waiting in the Nevernever, and if his throat heals before we get out of here we’re not getting out _at all_.  Harry’s got our flank but we need to retreat.”

Derek’s vision finally cleared, just in time to see a line drive of dark fur coming right at them.  “Stiles!” he yelled pulling him down on top of him as one of the wolves sailed overhead to hit a support beam with a yelp of pain.

Stiles landed atop his chest.  Derek sucked in a breath when he realized that _Stiles was on top of him,_ face flushed with exertion and eyes wide with excitement.  With each of Stiles’ hot breaths on his cheek he imagined he could _hear_ his number on the Kinsey Scale ratcheting higher.  Stiles pupils dilated even further as the closeness of the situation combined with adrenaline and teenage hormones.  Derek refused to read into it any further than that.  Not even when stiles placed a hand on his cheek. 

Then Derek saw the ring.  Stiles could tell _exactly_ what he feeling and was leaning in closer anyway. 

Just before their lips touched the were startled out of their joint reverie by Scott banging on the barrier that still surrounded them, giving off bright pulses of light.  “Really guys?  Now?  Apparently I can only break these circles once per epic battle or I’d be in there slapping the UST out of you.”

The moment that had seemed to stretch on forever had only lasted a few seconds for all that it left them out of breath.  Stiles recovered first.

“Kinky.  But it’s a little soon in the relationship for bondage three-ways; we haven’t even discussed safe words yet.”

Derek couldn’t help it; a stream of breathy giggles burst out of.  The rapid rise and fall of his chest did some interesting things given that _Stiles_ was still _on top of him_.

Scott looked pained.  “Vampires and wolf-wolfs are real, Derek is giggling, I don’t know what the hell is going on anymore.”

“It’s okay Scotty boy,” Stiles said.  “Later.  Looks like the wolves are about out of gas.  We need to scram before-

The vampire finally got the upper hand.  He gripped Mouse in one twisted claw hand and the still-mobile wolf in the other and slammed them together with a wet crunch before hurling them into a stack of empty barrels.

Freed of the human flesh mask the thing looked like a giant black bat with slick rubbery skin and a sagging belly.  It threw back its head revealing the livid patches of newly healed skin and screeched out a battle cry.

“Harry plan B!” Stiles yelled.

Derek felt a nauseating ripple as the cold black power that animated the vampires caused the fabric of reality to warp in the air above them.  At least a dozen more of the horrors dropped down from the ceiling, slinging trails of viscous venom over the three of them.

“Derek get Mouse and Georgia, Scott grab Will.  Tommy snap out of it and get your ass over here.  Eyes closed!” Stiles yelled as he broke the circle.

The vampire horde cried triumphant for a split second before a number of sizzling cylinders scattered over the floor.  Cries of triumph became wails of agony as the magnesium flares erupted in an explosion of incandescence.

Even with his eyes closed Derek felt like knives were stabbing into them.  He darted over to the place he’d marked in his mind and grabbed the weakly stirring forms, hauling them back to Stiles.

“Stay close!” Stiles reformed the circle, this time maintaining a constant litany in some Celtic-sounding language.

As the flares quickly began to dim the vampires surrounded the circle, repeatedly slamming blows into it that could punch a hole through plate steel.  Even with the power to defy dark creatures that was inherent in Mountain Ash, their cramped refuge wouldn’t hold for long.  Stiles looked like he was about to pass out any second.  Derek was amazed he was holding it at all.

He had been wondering when the wizard was going to supply the backup Stiles mentioned when a lance of red-gold fire sliced two of the vampires in half.  Stiles’s smirk said it was all part of his plan.  Harry had waited for them to bunch up so he could maximize the effectiveness of his strikes in the limited confines of the warehouse without burying them all in rubble.  The fire spilled around the circle, leaving its occupants unharmed, but set the vampires alight like kindling.

The wizard had cut down at least half of their attackers before the remainder wised up and put the barrier between themselves and the oncoming fire.

The death knell came when the red Noble rejoined the fight, once more concealed in his handsome human visage, and engaged Harry in a magical slugfest.

Derek could see how this would play out and it wasn’t good.  Harry’s power was incredible, slinging arcs of flame and blasts of force one after another like it was nothing.  He met chilling bolts of darkness on a curving rampart of silver light and parried flashes of red lightning on his staff.  But they were too evenly matched.  If the wizard ran out of energy first the vampire could use his massive physical strength to simply rip the otherwise human man limb from limb. 

Even if it went the other way it was going to take too long.  The rest of the vampire could only assault a small portion of the circle at a time, but even so wisps of smoke had started to rise from it and Stiles’s face was ashen.

Derek got a crazy idea.  A Stiles-worthy level of crazy.  “Scott!  Time for another lesson.”  Two pairs of red eyes met, wills straining against each other for a moment before both nodded, recognizing the other’s status.  “Take one of Stiles’s hands.”  Derek took the other while Stiles’s arched an eyebrow at him questioningly, unable to stop the chant to ask what he was doing.  “Focus on Stiles, on what connects the two of you.  You’re an Alpha now.  He’s not just your friend or your brother he’s your pack.”

Derek focused on Stiles too.  On the desire for closeness he felt around him; that promise of comfort and support that seemed to hover just out of being.  Now for the hard part, and they had no time to lose; Stiles had started to shake violently, his recitation stuttering through gasping breaths.

“A pack can have more than one Alpha.  We don’t have to get along all the time or even like each other.  We just have to decide that this: our pack is what matters most.”  He held up his hand to the nascent Alpha.  A rush of expressions played of Scott’s face: anger, outrage, fear, denial, pride, guilt, sadness, understanding, and a faint touch of hope.  He took Derek’s hand, completing the circuit.

The power of the two Alphas clashed discordantly, neither yielding nor retreating from where their hands joined.  As one they turned to Stiles.  “Do you accept us as your Alphas as we accept you in turn?” Derek asked.

Stiles eyebrows disappeared into his sweat matted hair as he realized what Derek was attempting.  He looked at Scott, who gave him a small smile, before nodding to Derek.  He gasped, human eyes glowing red as the energy that had been teetering back and forth between the two Alphas suddenly swept through the three of them unhindered.  Power doubled and trebled as the strength of the new Alpha Triad suffused Stiles magic and flowed into the barrier surrounding them.  The air split with a crack of thunder and scarlet light, tossing back the Red Court like pieces of popcorn in a hurricane.

The exultation of their successful bonding only lasted a moment.  Startled by the blast Harry looked over his shoulder at them reflexively, leaving himself momentarily open.  Tendrils of shadow coiled around his wrists, pulling his arms out and yanking him off balance.  In a flash the Red Noble was behind him, arm around his throat.

“So it ends, Warden Dresden.  Yield to me now and I will let you live.  Besides, Duchess Arianna should have the pleasure of deciding the means of your doom.”

“So it ends, means of your doom, who _talks_ like that?” snarked Harry.  But Derek could see how pale he went at the mention of that name.  The wizard gulped as his face hardened.  “Stiles.”  Derek and Scott rotated their triangle formation so he could see.  “Try not to let Bob get you into too much trouble.”  Stiles eyes widened and he shook his head desperately. 

Death curse.  The final, most devastating working a mortal practitioner could perform as they spoke with their last breath, consuming their own spark of life to drag their foes into death with them.  A wizard of Harry’s level could potentially reduce a hundred yard radius to ashes.  They would be safe in the circle, probably, but the vampires would be obliterated.

Derek squeezed Stiles hand and whispered “Close your eyes,” while a very naked Will and Georgia helped Mouse restrain a struggling Thomas.

The Vampire sorcerer hissed as Harry drew in a breath to speak his curse, claws extending to dig into his neck.

He didn’t get the chance to speak his curse before the entire top half of the building was ripped off by a giant invisible hand.

“Get down!” Sheriff Stilinski yelled as vampires burst into flame with terrified howls as the summer sun smote down on them.

Derek and Scott bore the rest to the ground with werewolf speed as the thunder of automatic weapons fire drowned out the wails of pain.

Derek looked up to see the Sheriff wearing safety glasses, pumping round after round into the dying creatures with a shotgun.  What he missed the tiny policewoman from the hospital mopped up with chattering bursts of fire from a freaking P90.

In less than a minute the gunfire ceased and absolute silence reigned in its place.

Stiles moved first.  Eyes still glowing ruby red he rushed over to Harry who had fallen supine near where the vampire had held him.  The vampire which was nowhere to be seen.

The wizard wasn’t looking good.  The claw marks on his neck were superficial, but the wheezing rattle in his throat meant the vampire had damaged the cartilage when he threw him aside to make a break for it.

“No.”  Stiles pawed over Harry’s still form.  “No!”  His voice was full of wrath like Derek had never heard from the young man.  Not even when he set Peter on fire.

The Alpha Power, Derek realized.  Between exhaustion and the generally traumatic event of the past twenty-four hours, the strength flowing into him from the werewolves was overwhelming his mind.

“It’s midday,” feral-Stiles snarled.  “Even under a veil he can’t hide from me.”  He leapt up and ran out the back of the ruined warehouse.

“Stiles!”  Derek, Scott, and the Sheriff shouted after him in unison but he didn’t even look back.

The Alphas took off after him.  Even flush with energy through the bond Stiles was human and they quickly caught up him in an alley shadowed by a neighboring building.

Once more Stiles cast out Mountain Ash, this time at empty air.  As it fell into a narrow circle the vampire appeared looking shocked.  Stiles smiled wickedly and held up his hand thumbing his ring by way of explanation.

The vampire put pressure on the barrier, causing it to begin smoking immediately.  “This won’t hold me child.  I am a Count of the Red Court and you’re not anything close to a wizard.  Even within a circle of your own power I have nothing to fear from your magic, and your flea-ridden pets can’t even get close to me.

“I know.  That’s why I borrowed something from a friend.”  He raised the .44 he’d taken of the wizard with a bloodthirsty grin and thumbed the hammer back.  “Regards from Harry Dresden.”  He stepped right up to the line of Ash and pulled the trigger repeatedly, emptying the revolver into the vampire’s skull.  He broke the circle waved Derek and Scott forward.  “Finish it.”

Derek lunged in and ripped his claws across the belly, rupturing the reservoir of stolen blood the creature carried while Scott removed what remained of the head.  Together they cracked open the ribcage to expose the heart to the day.  The remains began to smolder and sizzle in the half-light of the alley while the trio of Alphas stared down in mute observance.

Stiles swayed and nearly fell before Derek caught him.  When the human Alpha looked up, Derek saw the violence in the pulsing red glow of his eyes shift into something different.  Writhing like an eel he surged up to capture Derek’s mouth with his own.

Before the older man could even marshal his thoughts through the searing heat of the kiss, Stiles pulled back.  “Finally,” he snarled.  The red faded as his eyes slid out of focus and he collapsed onto Derek’s shoulder.

“Wow man, you must be one hell of a kisser,” Scott chortled.

Derek tried for a glare but the wild surge joy and _completeness_ turned it into a beaming smile.

“So…” the Sheriff said, entering the alley to see a twenty-four year old man with claws and glowing red eyes lovingly stroking his unconscious son’s hair.  “Who wants to explain themselves first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, all that happened. I'm so tired of hating on Scott. So I tried to put him in a situation where he was so off balance he'd have to get over himself or literally die from head-up-his-ass-itis.
> 
> The relationships are Derek/Stiles, romantic, Derek & Stiles & Scott, pack, and Scott & Derek, brotherly (not bromantic). After thinking about it this was the only way I could figure to jumpstart character development without completely abandoning realism (he said in regards to his werewolf/wizard fiction).
> 
> Next time...
> 
> Denouement. The Sheriff needs a drink after...everything. Fortunately the McCoys seem to have raided a distillery.  
> The new Alpha Triad talk about their new relationships and responsibilities while Derek fesses up about the Alpha pack.
> 
> Also, smut. Explicit Sterek is here! My very first attempt at writing...that. There will be awkwardness, humor, and unexpected quirks of werewolf biology (yes I'm going there).


	6. Yeah, the ellipsis, it's dumb.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The McCoy's know how to have a memorial.
> 
> Stiles whips up some impromptu mojo to give him and Derek a chance at a private...conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The last chapter! My first time writing about...first times! Feels, angst, and orgasms! I've been up for two days straight! Can you tell!?
> 
> Sorry if this is a bit rough; I'm a bit tired.
> 
> Enjoy!

For the third time, Stiles woke up on the wizard’s couch.  The second had been a few hours earlier to the sound of a heated discussion between his father, Uncle Tommy, Sergeant Murphy, Ebenezar, and a raspy sounding Harry.  He dimly remembered stirring fitfully, panicking at the sound of the anger in the Sheriff’s voice, but was soon soothed back to sleep by the reassuring hands of his Alphas.

This time, however, he was tangled up with them in a pile, his shoulders resting on Derek’s stomach while a lightly snoring Scott slept with his head pillowed in his arms on top of Stiles’ thighs.  The sense of warmth and comfort he felt in the arms of his pack was something he hadn’t experienced since his mother was alive.

Uncle Ebenezar stood alone by the cold fireplace.  He looked up at Stiles as if called by the memory of the one they’d both lost seven years ago today.

“Hey there laddie,” he whispered, the Scottish endearment sounding comfortingly eccentric in his thick Missouri accent.

“Here let me…”  Stiles tried to extricate himself from the puppy pile without waking the other two.  Watching a sleepily disgruntled Scott trying to get comfortable by nuzzling his head against Derek’s thigh may have been the cutest thing _ever_.

He padded over to the fireplace on silent feet to stand next to his uncle.

“You’re going to have your hands full with those two.”  The old wizard gestured at the sleeping wolves with a mug of coffee.  “But something tells me you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Stiles snorted and stared fondly at his new family.  “Count SoCal said a lot of things about me, you, Harry, and Tommy while he doing his arch villain spiel.”

“Is that so.”

“Given the epic levels of misunderstanding that led to this mess in the first place I’m guessing that Harry and Tommy don’t know about…some things.”

“I reckon that’s not an unreasonable conclusion.”  He grinned proudly at Stiles for a moment before his gaze sharpened and his tone became intensive.  “And what do you gather from that?”

“Knowledge is power.  Lately it seems like every time I learn something new it comes with a side order of craziness.  Sometimes family means keeping secrets if that’s what it takes to protect them.  Even if hurts you.  I know from experience.”  The very worst thing, worse even than the dark feeling of satisfaction when he executed the vampire, was the fear that he’d lost his father forever now that everything was in the open.

“Your father is a good man and a good Sheriff.  If anyone understands making sacrifices to keep people safe it’s him.  What is that frightens you, really?”

Stiles stared into the ashes hoping to see some spark of illumination as a sign.  “I can’t lose him too.” He said softly.  “We were on our own for so long.  When all of this supernatural crap started I was terrified my being involved would get him killed.  Now all of sudden I have more family than I’d ever hoped for and I’m so scared it’s making me sick.”  His voice began to get hysterical as the reality of what had happened settled in.  “I mean look what I was willing to do for them after only five minutes.  I might end up living _several_ lifetimes.  What kind of person will I be after I have to watch everyone I love die one by one.”

“Aye it works both ways.  Knowledge can give you power, but sometimes it forces you to learn things you’d give anything to un-know.”  He weathered face settled into lines of old grief.  “There’s no advice I can give you save this.  When you looked into your cousin’s soul he saw yours in return.  He was willing to risk his life and Thomas’s life, risk starting another war to save you even though he only new you as the son of his brother’s old friend.  As long as you remain someone who can inspire that in others you’ll never get so lost you can’t find your way back.”

Stiles didn’t try to stop the tear that slipped down his cheek.  “You think?”

“Aye.”  The old Scott drew him into a bone crushing hug.  “Now,” he said releasing him to gasp for air, “let’s go find your dad.  It’s time to introduce those boys of yours to the family.”

He hiccoughed out a little laugh.  “You’re not...uh…weirded out by all of this?  I kinda thought you’d be all traditional, considering.”

“You’ll find it pays to be flexible.  Traditions seem to come and go pretty quick when you’ve been around for a few centuries.”

“How much do they know about…all this?”

“Not much.  I look in on them a couple of times a generation to see if anyone shows signs of magical talent.”

“Where exactly do I fall on that scale?  I saw lift the top half of a building and Harry’s duel with that Red was right out of a fantasy novel.   I got the impression that I’ll never be able to do that kind of thing.”  He wasn’t sure if he really _wanted_ to be able to for that matter.

“Maybe not.  But the smith that forged Excalibur never carried it into battle.  From I hear you’ve been blessed with a most extraordinary gift; you shouldn’t be discouraged just because it’s limited in scope.  With that mind of yours I have no doubt that what you build with your pack supporting you will one day be legend.”

“Thanks,” he said wiping his eyes.  He looked past his uncle to see an awake Derek smiling shyly at him as he absently ran a hand through Scott’s hair.  “What _we_ build,” he beamed.  “Together.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

The McCoy clan was in fine form tonight.  While Stiles had been sleeping off his first foray into supernatural politics he had missed the tears and recriminations portion of the evening.  Given the amount of family drama that had snuck in between brutal eviscerations in the last two days he didn’t really feel like he missed out. 

His dad had certainly capitalized on the opportunity.  Seeing a chance to separate Stiles from the protective red glowers of his pack, he’d shoved the unsuspecting Derek and Scott into a gaggle of coyly tittering cousins.  From their expressions you’d have thought they’d been thrown to the manticores than pulled into a lively Celtic dance by a bunch of schoolgirls.

“Anything to say?” his father asked simply, swirling his glass of scotch.

“Surprise!?”  He held up some half-heated jazz hands.

The Sheriff glared daggers at him for a moment before his scowl cracked and melted into grin.  “Yeah, I guess that pretty much sums it up.”  His gaze wandered over to Derek as he shook his head and tossed back the remainder of the whiskey.

“Speaking of surprises, dad,” he said in a tone so innocent the Sheriff’s head snapped up and leveled a scrutinizing stare at him.  “I couldn’t help but notice the…implications…”

“Implications of what, Stiles?” he asked evenly.

“Oh, only that your _closest_ and dearest friend from your wild early days is actually an _incubus_.  Just wondering if maybe there’s something _you_ want to tell _me_?”  His innocent expression morphed into a satisfied smirk as his dad’s ears glowed cherry red.

The Sheriff coughed delicately before answering.  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” he said, suddenly engrossed in examining the bottom of the empty glass.

“Uh huh.”

“I need another glass of scotch.”  His dad fled into the kitchen while Stiles tried to keep from bursting out laughing.

Derek sidled up into the newly vacated space next to him.  “Hey,” he said nervously, “can we talk?”

“Sure.”  From the grimace on Derek’s “sure” had been correctly interpreted as “would rather rub cayenne pepper in my own eyes”.

“How do you like the University of Chicago?”

Really?  _That’s_ what he decided to go with?  “It’s everything I used to hope it would be.”

“Used to?”

“To say my priorities have shifted in the last twelve hours is a comical understatement.”

“The pack will support you no matter what you decide.  I don’t want you to feel bound to us, like can’t leave if you-

“You can stop that right there; I’m heading off the martyr train before it evens leaves the station.”

“Martyr train?” Derek asked in mock offense.

“Shut up it’s been a long day, my powers of sarcasm need time to recharge.”

“I mean it though.”

Stiles blew out a huff.  “Oh I know you do.  Here’s the thing, Sourwolf: you _asked_ and I said _yes_.  Not because I had no other choice or in the heat of the moment, but because I wanted to.  I wanted this.  And you.”

Derek blanched at the sincerity in Stiles’s voice.  “But you never wanted the Bite, to be pack?”

“I didn’t want to feel like I was losing control.  Now…” he shook his head.  “I think today has thoroughly proven that _control_ isn’t ever going to be a significant feature in my life.”

Derek grabbed his shoulders and pulled Stiles around to face him.  “And that’s exactly why I won’t be the one to take away what choices you do have.”

Stiles let his head fall forward into Derek’s neck and groaned.  “Seriously?  I said _off_ the martyr express.  I know what you want and how you feel.  I can sense _everything_ now.”

“My _feelings_ got my family _killed_.  You can understand if I don’t find that to be a compelling argument.”

Stiles took Derek’s face in his hands and gave it a rough shake.  “Hey!  I am not Kate Argent and neither are you.  This life isn’t something you are burdening me with; it’s something I was already born into, even if I didn’t know until now.”

“But your dad?  College?”

“Let me worry about dad.  As for college, I only _might_ be able to go anyway.  One of the advantages of having so little raw power is not blowing every fuse on the block each time I sneeze.  Maybe”

Derek took Stiles wrists in his hands, thumbs stroking.  “You _have_ power.” 

Stiles added the “over me” in his head.  “I was told by…an authority on all things magical that I’m probably going to be around a long time.”  He’d nearly forgotten Bob’s need to know status.  “My bizzaro magic is so stabilized or whatever that my lifespan could be extremely long for a _wizard_ , even though I’ll never actually be one myself.” 

“What’s your point?”

“My point is stop worrying about my future!  I probably won’t even remember the next five years when I’m pushing four freaking hundred.  But right now I have my dad, I have Scott, and I _have you_.”  He desperately willed Derek to get it.  He couldn’t vocalize the idea of having to watch them all die of old age while he lived on.

“It’s not just your future I’m worried about,” Derek said somberly lowing Stiles’ hands.

“I know.  But I think the best way for you to protect my life is let me stay with my big bad Alpha bodyguards, with you.”  Stiles pressed in close, voice growing husky.  “Beside you, behind you.”  He leaned in to whisper in Derek’s ear.  “On top of you, under you.”  He ran his hands up the muscled planes of the Alpha’s torso. “Around you, _inside_ you.”

Like back in the warehouse the arousal between them began to feed on itself.  Through the power of his ring he could see every blood vessel dilating, every nerve sparking as the citrus-musk scent of their combined excitement slowly eviscerated self-control.

He felt it when Derek’s resolve broke.  Stiles may not have been a wolf, but the possessive snarl that rumbled through his chest came from a pull that had nothing to do with the moon.  Unless he wanted to tackle him right then and there in front of the whole clan Stiles needed to redirect this tension, fast.  He grabbed Derek’s hand as his second cousin struck up a wild tempo on his fiddle.  “Dance with me.”

_“What!?”_

Stiles used his new enhanced strength to yank Derek onto the floor.  For the first minute or so the Eyebrows of Consternation dominated the wolf’s face before the two of them stumbled over an unfamiliar step and nearly fell while the extended family cheered in the background.  With a laugh they regained their balance and threw themselves into the dance.  Derek picked it up with unsurprising dexterity.  The uncomplicated smile that appeared on his face made him look years younger.  Stiles promised himself he’d do whatever it took to see that smile every day for the rest of his life.  Derek was right about one thing: this wasn’t Stiles’s _decision_ anymore.  It was his _purpose_.

Stiles shook his head to clear his thoughts and found Scott, clapping along with the rest of the spectators.  _“Keep my dad’s glass full.”_ he said with his eyes, _“Derek and I need some alone time.”_

He was afraid his friend would react with shock or disgust. But all he saw was an uncomfortable grimace and a knowing wink.  _“Do everything I wouldn’t do.  And then don’t give me the details,”_ it said.  Stiles was going to have to buy him a pony, or an extra large box of Scooby Snacks.

He signaled for the music to speed up.  He jumped back into the jig and Derek followed suit. Together their steps flowed with a smoothness he knew he could never replicate solo.  He felt the thrum of ancient power as they danced.  He let the music and energy flow through him as more and more of the family joined.  Again he sensed the threads of magic and memory, ties that connected this moment to countless others in their ancestral history.  He seized them in his mind and wove them together, reinforcing the atmosphere of the party.  Soon the whole clan, including his very tipsy father, were stepping and whirling together like they’d choreographed it.

When the power of the working he’d built began to flow freely he pulled Derek off the floor while Ebenezar watched from the sidelines with an approving grin.

He led the older man out the back of the dilapidated family mansion, continuing their dance to the song of the cicadas in the summer night.  “There’s a another conversation we need to have.  Somewhere private.”

Derek nodded with a goofy expression on his face as Stiles led him into the old servants’ quarters that had been converted into a guest house.

The instant the door was securely closed and locked behind them he leapt into Derek’s arms, wrapping his legs around his waist.

The searing kiss burned away all thoughts of restraint as they tumbled their way up the stairs to the bedroom losing their shirts as they went.

When he finally had him pinned up against the wall just inside the bedroom door Derek broke it off “Stiles!  We can’t… there are…reasons.”  Ruby eyes shimmered in confusion as the Alpha tried to piece together a coherent objection.

“Sure,” Stiles said, pulling Derek’s attention back.  His eyes bore into the other man’s, scarlet meeting scarlet.  “There’s just one thing.”

“What’s that?” Derek asked.

“We’re in Illinois.”

An adorable confused look clouded the Hale Alpha’s features.  “So?”

Stiles grinned wickedly.  “The age of consent here is _seventeen_.”

With a snarl Derek slammed him back into the wall, cracking it.  A distant part of his brain registered the fact that it should have hurt but didn’t, but he was too busy massaging the other man’s tongue with his own to care.

With a lot of fumbling and breathy laughter they managed to get their pants open.

“Stiles!” Derek moaned, taking them both in his hand.  They ground together like that, all but trying to inhale each other as they rutted against each other and made out with abandon.

“Derek!” Stiles pulled back when he felt the familiar sensation of electricity curling in his toes.

The werewolf stilled their hips but sped up his hand, jerking them both off roughly without restraint or finesse. “Come for me,” he growled.

Stiles howled out a wordless cry as his orgasm took him, coating Derek’s stomach and chest with his release.  When the stars cleared from his vision he reached between them to take hold of Derek and was met with a surprise.  He touched the bulbous swelling near the base lightly with his fingertips “Um…Derek.  What the hell is _that_!?”

Derek looked down at himself, shock spreading over his face.  “I’ve never seen that before.  I…I think it’s a knot.”

Stiles looked at him like he’d lost his mind.  “Duh it’s a knot.  You didn’t think it was worth _mentioning_?”

“I didn’t know!” he wailed.  “It must be an Alpha thing.”

“What, you never jerked off since you became Alpha?”

“No I did but…”

“Did you think of me?” Stiles asked in an attempt to divert Derek’s freak out with humor.

He got a scathing glare for his trouble.  “Shut up.  There hasn’t been a male Alpha in my family for most of two centuries; how was I supposed to know?”

Stiles ran his hand through some of the precome drizzling continuously down the underside Derek’s cock.  He wrapped his hand around the knot and gave it a twist and squeeze.

The Alpha’s knees buckled, almost sending them to the floor.  “Fuck!  I…I think it’s because we’re both Alphas.  My body’s reacting to you.”

“So all…this is just an instinct thing?”

Derek managed to scrape together one of his patented “you’re an idiot” glares, despite their compromising situation.  “So sorry my dick likes you as much as I do.  Can we just _deal_ with this please?”

Stiles stopped his ribbing when he saw the humiliation evident on Derek’s face.  “Shhhh, just put us on the bed, I’ll take care of you.”

Derek shuffled backwards and sat down, laying back so that Stiles was on top of him.  After some squirming and growling Stiles managed to peel of Derek’s jeans.

“It’s okay,” he said, settling onto the Alpha’s thighs, “I’ll take care of you.”

Stiles wrapped one hand around the knot, bending down to lick and tease the head and foreskin of Derek’s cock with his lips and tongue.  From the way the wolf bucked and moaned beneath him it seemed Stiles’s years of internet “research” had actually paid off.

Derek looked caught somewhere between wrecked with pleasure and wracked with shame.  Stiles’s heart broke a little seeing someone he’d thought as invulnerable looking so exposed.  “It’s okay.  More than okay.  You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.  And you like this,” he gave the knot a firm caresses, pulling a gasp from Derek, “is definitely the hottest thing ever.”  He put two fingers in his mouth to moisten them.  He pulled them out with an obscene popping sound.  “Just relax.”  He teased Derek’s tight pink hole with one finger while his hand and mouth kept working on the swollen cock.

He pressed one finger in slowly.  The ring of muscle only tensed briefly before yielding and becoming pliant.  Derek drew in a shuddering breath as he started working his finger in and out.  The werewolf’s breathing became ragged as a second finger joined the first.  “Stiles, please,” Derek begged.”  The younger man curled his fingers as he took up a rapid corkscrewing stroke.  “Fuck!” Derek shouted as he came, shooting thick ropes of cum over his chest and stomach. 

And kept shooting for the better part of minute.  “I’m guessing this a new development too.”

Derek lifted his head to look at him, laughing woozily.  “Just find me a towel.  Or a hose.”

Stiles ran a finger through the mess on Derek’s chest.  “You ready to call it quits so soon?  I’m just about ready to go again.”  Stiles pouted down at him.  He licked his finger clean slowly like he was savoring the flavor.  He knew his ploy was working when he saw and heard Derek’s red-eyed growl of approval.

“You’re not the only one that had a rough day.  Or did you forget the part where you dipped your finger in aconite and stuck it the hole in my leg.”

“Come on, I think we’ve established you like it when I stick my fingers in you.”

“Hilarious.  But seriously, I’m exhausted.  I want to go back the hotel, shower, and sleep for week.  _Then_ we will have a real conversation about this.  With our mouths.”

“Our mouths were doing a lot during that _conversation_.”

“Stiles!”

“Fine, fine.”  He knew there was no avoiding this.  While the sex-distraction worked this time it probably wouldn’t spare him again.  Whatever.  He was already committed to the long haul here, and he doubted he and Derek would have half the chemistry they did if they weren’t equals in incorrigibility.

Apparently not all of Derek was down for R&R.  “Um…Dude?”

“What?”

He reached down and grabbed Derek’s still very erect dick, pulling it down and releasing it to spring back up and strike his stomach with a deep thump.  “I ‘m sure I can even get your jeans back on over this and even if I did it would be a little conspicuous.”

“A little?”

“Fine.  A somewhat above average conspicuous.”

“We’re never doing this again.”

“Oh don’t be such a Sourwolf.”  He darted down to place a peck on Derek’s lips.  “If you notice I’m in a similar situation over here.  Proof enough your body is fucking perfect.”  Stiles grin faded a bit as looked at his own lean figure.

“Right back at you,” Derek said guessing the direction of his thoughts.

Stiles could admit to himself that having self esteem issues in their current setting was mutually ridiculous.  “Well then,” he purred, “ let’s get started on getting you…into bed.”

Bur when he wrapped his hand around Derek the werewolf hissed in discomfort.  “Too.  Sensitive.”

“So what we wait for it to go down?”

“Uh…I’m not sure it will, not anytime soon.  Knots are a breeding thing, right?  I think the only way to make it go away is for us to really…you know.”

“What, fuck?” Stiles looked at Derek’s faint blush incredulously.  “If you can do it you can say it.”

“Sorry it’s just this is my first time since…not to mention my first time with a _guy_.”

“That’s really surpri-wait!  Did you just say you want to _breed me_?  Because I am not ready to be on Teen-Wolf Mom.”

“You’re a guy, Stiles, you’re not getting pregnant.  Besides, if I’m too sensitive for your hand there’s no way you can ride me.” 

Stile wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to hearing his _own_ heart rate rose when Derek said things like “ride me”.  It took a moment for what he’d heard to fully penetrate.  “Oh!  You want me to..?”

“Yeah.”  Derek actually looked shy. It was Too.  Fucking.  _Cute_.

“But we don’t have any lube…”  He looked around desperately hoping a bottle would materialize but apparently that was not among his mystic powers.

Derek waved his hand at the huge slick of semen covering his torso.  “See.  Lubrication.”

“And it’s 100% Organic. Werewolf flavored!”

“Why do I like you?”

“Hush you love me.”  A tense silence settled between them as that sentence hung in the air.

“Let’s just get on with it,” he said quietly, “my dick’s kind of starting to hurt.”  Actually Stiles was guessing probably hurt quite a bit since it was now engorged to the point the head was looking a little purple.

“Romance me why don’t you.” Stiles muttered sarcastically but scooped up a large swath of cum and smeared it on his cock.  “This is still gonna hurt a bit, you know.”

“I can take it.”  He saw the joke forming on Stiles lips and snapped “Don’t.”

“Should have known you’d be a bossy bottom.”  Stiles was knew he was pushing it but couldn’t help himself.

“Stiles!”  Derek’s eyes glowed red as his claws and fangs extended.  “Just stick your dick in me before I tear it off.  With my teeth.”

He leaned down and licked one fang suggestively.  “Kinky.”  He sat back and lined himself up with Derek.  “Just breathe.”  He pushed in slowly.  Derek hissed at first but by the times Stiles was fully seated within him he was making small rolling motions with his hips.

The tight heat of the werewolf’s supernaturally warm and strong body was the most incredible thing Stiles had ever felt.  “God, Derek.  I’m not sure how long I can make this last.  Fuck you’re amazing.” 

Derek rose up and kissed him deeply.  “I’m ready.”

Stiles began moving, slowly at first, but faster and faster as they got swept up in it.  Soon he had Derek’s legs were over his shoulders, pulling his partner’s hips down to meet his snapping upwards thrusts with a delicious sounding slap of flesh on flesh.

As Stiles started getting close he saw Derek’s fangs cutting into his own lips, clawed hands clenched into fists dribbling blood onto the bedspread.  He looked like he was desperately trying to hold something back.

“It’s okay.  Shift.”  Derek whimpered gratefully and let his Beta form emerge.  And damn but did that do it for Stiles.  He needed therapy.  Oh so much therapy.  But he had other priorities just this instant.

As his thrusts became erratic he took the knotted shaft in one hand and the uncut head in the other and began stroking in tight, opposite corkscrewing motions.  One.  Two.  Three strokes and Derek’s orgasm tore its way out of him with a roar as his back arched into a tight bow.  Watching Derek come apart under his touch sent Stiles over the edge and he was coming inside him with what he hoped was not a high pitched whine.

Not that it mattered.  Derek looked so debauched and done in Stiles doubted he could remember his own name.  And he, Stiles Stilinski, had done that.  He just hoped it wouldn’t take too much persuasion to get Derek to return the favor, although truth be told he was a bit intimidated by the knot.  He’d never really felt jealous of another guy’s junk before but…

“I can see why.  I’m gonna be walking funny for hours since your an Alpha and all.”  Oops Stiles was thinking out loud again.  He looked at the mirror over the dresser and yep, his eyes were shining like road flares.

“Not really what I meant.  You just have all those extra bits.  Your orgasm looked…enviable.”

“I think we just discovered why familial packs are almost always led by female Alphas.”

“Probably not a lot of _breeding_ getting done like that.  Unless…?”

“Don’t call it that, my theoretical offspring aren’t vying for best in show.  Also you are banned from the internet.  No more creepy man-pregnant werewolf porn for you.”

“Shoot.  I guess we’ll just have to get a camera and make some of our own then.”

Stiles cut off Derek’s shocked protest with a kiss, heedless of the drying mess making them stick together.

They were so caught up in the afterglow they didn’t notice that anyone had joined them in the guest house until Sheriff Stilinksi slurred out “I am not nearly drunk enough to see this.”  Stiles imagined that his and Derek’s identical looks of shocked mortification must have been hilarious.  Or would have been to anyone else.  “Stiles, please remove yourself from your boyfriend and put some clothes on.  I’m going to get another drink and we can all pray that I forget this before I wake up.”

Stiles and Derek looked at each and said in unison “We are going to rip Scott’s throat out.  With our teeth!”  As they dissolved into giggles the Sheriff sighed and shuffled off with grumbling “Werewolves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is.
> 
> Next time...  
> Two short(ish) epilogues: pack training from Derek's POV and another from Stiles's as he processes some bad news.
> 
> Not everything that happens around the end of the main story and in the interim before the epilogues is explained...yet.


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the story is explained, at least in part, as plans are made for the future.

“Wait, you want to make _more_ rings!?” Scott screeched.  Clearly this was going to go about as well as Derek had expected. 

“Ten,” Stiles said in a no-nonsense voice.

“Ten!?  Look at what happened when you made just _one_!”  Scott whirled on Derek.  “Come on.  Tell him he’s being _insane_.”  The teen’s eyes glowed red as Alpha power seeped into his voice, making it shake with command.  Sadly for Scott, the three of them were all equal in rank, the spark of power flowing between them freely.  They couldn’t assert dominance over each other

Still, the new Alpha needed to get control of that before they returned to Beacon Hills and met up with the rest of the pack.  Figuring out how to manage the position of Alpha as a triumvirate would be complicated in any situation, but currently Alphas actually outnumbered Betas in their pack.  If Scott, and for that matter Stiles, started laying out commands left, right, and center it could place a potentially damaging amount of strain on Isaac and Peter.

“Sorry oh most True Alpha,” he said, “but I’m with Stiles on this one.”  Derek was still reeling over Scott’s ascension to Alpha status.  It was supposed to be a _legend_.  The influx power that he’d felt when he and Scott accepted each other as pack was _not_ normal either.  He was beginning to suspect that blending the power of a born wolf, a True Alpha, and a major league enchanter may have been a much bigger deal than he’d thought at the time.

Derek wondered if he should go see Dresden and ask for a brain.

“It’s okay Scott,” Stiles said squeezing his friend’s arm.  The red faded from Scott’s eyes as he regained control with alarming speed.  Even more disconcertingly Derek felt his own nerves settling.  Apparently Scott wasn’t the only one bringing something abnormal into their new pack.  Derek had never felt so absolutely in control.  It was like he and Scott no longer _had_ anchors so much as they _were_ anchored.  _To_ Stiles.  “I had help from the experts.  This was checked and double checked.  It’ll work.”

Derek flopped down on the empty bed and put his hands behind his head while Scott slumped into the desk chair.  “You’re my brother, Stiles, now more than ever.  I just keep forgetting that you’re just as supernatural as we are.  Huh.  I guess _you_ were actually supernatural before _me_.”

Derek couldn’t resist.  “Stiles has always been special.”  He smirked at Scott’s gagging face.

“Ugh, I can handle you two being together, but not the fluffy cuteness.”

He could almost hear Stiles vibrating with repressed Allison-related retorts.  Derek was going to have to find a discreet way to let Stiles know how much he appreciated not pulling on _that_ particular thread.

“Yeah, we need to save it up for my dad.  Hopefully he’ll be less likely to shoot Derek while choking on the saccharine sweetness of our puppy love.”

“I’m not sure _puppy_ is the way to go, considering.  Probably best to avoid all things _canine_ for now,” Derek quipped.

“I don’t know man.  You just made a _joke_.  A _dog joke_.  He’s totally got you collared.”

He mock snarled at Scott and threw a pillow at his head.  Stiles laughed while the two of them batted it back and forth until Scott accidentally ripped it in half with a puff of synthetic fluff.

“Why ten rings?” Derek asked when Stiles had started breathing again.  “The Mandarin was a bad guy you know.”

Stiles jaw dropped open with an audible clicking sound at his Marvel usage.

“You mean like the orange?” Scott asked confused.  Derek winced knowing what was coming next.

“Are you _kidding_ me Scott? We saw Iron Man 3 _together_ , even if it totally bastardized the character.”

“The psycho Guy Pierce played?  Why do want to be a villain?”  He looked almost comically distressed.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “I don’t, Scott.  The Mandarin in the comics wears ten rings that give him his powers.  This will be sort of similar but less evil-techno-doom.  Plus, shiny.”

Derek rolled over and looked at the clock on the nightstand.  It was time to face the music.  “I have to get going.”

Scott sniggered.  “Oh yeah, meeting the Sheriff for “lunch”.  With the detective lady.  At police headquarters.”

“Don’t worry,” Stiles put in, “I’m sure Uncle Tommy didn’t give him any of those wolfsbane bullets.”  He turned to his friend.  “Don’t forget, Scott, it’s your fault we got caught so everything Derek gets, you get _twice_.”

“Sorry, Bro, but I just don’t think about you that way,” he said demurely.

“Har.  Har dee har.”

“Did you know, Scott,” Derek asked as he stood, “That “mandarin” means teacher?”

“Do tell.” He replied with a mischievous smile, smelling a set up.  “And what do you think Stiles is supposed to teach us?”

He waited a beat.  “Patience.”

“What have I done,” Stiles moaned, “I’ve created a two headed Alpha Snark Monster!  That’s it.  You two are going in the Bestiary.”  He snatched the remaining pillows off the other bed and threw one at each of them before giving Derek a superior look.  “While I research how to defeat this new threat, you go face off with the dreaded Darth Pater.”

“That’s _Sheriff_ Darth Pater, Stiles.”  He said loftily.

“Go on Derek.  If he tries to launch another insane rescue mission I’ll sit on him until you get back.”

“Ha!  I knew you wanted to get up on all of this!”  Stiles waved an arm down at his body, still half buried in notes and enchantment schematics.

 

His fellow Alphas kept trading jabs as Derek left the hotel room.  If he was honest the idea of meeting the Sheriff for their inevitable “lunch” about his relationship with Stiles was slightly more terrifying than facing the Alpha Pack single handed.  He guessed Stiles would just have to teach him courage as well as patience.  But then, that was a huge part of what being an Alpha was: teaching his pack.  He didn’t believe Scott was the only one destined for this role.

The sign of the Hale pack had been a Triskelion for uncounted centuries.  He now wondered if some distant ancestor had been a seer of some kind.  The three of them together were something unprecedented, but too synergistic to be mere happenstance.  Friend, lover, brother.  Past, present, future.  Control, passion, purpose.  Memory, will, and magic.

If they wanted to survive what was coming they would have to teach each other.  Stiles was helping him break down the walls he’d built after Kate, to open himself up to something new.  Scott showed him what it meant to be a role model, to be a friend and mentor.  Derek struggled to impart wisdom earned in the most brutal way to two teenagers who were only now waking up to the deathly dangerous world that had always existed around them.

They had a lot to learn, but they also had each other.  Even though Derek was on his way to be threatened with death by his new boyfriend’s father, he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. Thank you all so much for reading. The story goes on, however. There will be a number of short fics before I figure out how to approach season 3a. 
> 
> Until then...

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Teen Wolf or the Dresden Files, etc.


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